


Theo in the Whirlwood Episode 7: The Ranger Deputy

by Mewd



Series: Theo in the Whirlwood [7]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Adventure, Comedy, Drama, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fantasy, Fauns & Satyrs, Humor, Mystical Creatures, Romance, Unicorns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:15:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 35
Words: 38,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29821353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mewd/pseuds/Mewd
Summary: Trust between humans and creatures is destroyed and the kingdom is on the verge of civil war. Theodore is the one person in a position to broker peace. At least until the Knight Detective strips him of his rank and authority.
Series: Theo in the Whirlwood [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1665631
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

The rock flew through the air and, with a sharp clank, bounced off the knight's helmet. The entire platoon turned to look at the faun who threw it. He was young, wild-eyed, with scruffy white fur and a maroon colored mantle.

"This is our home!" The faun shouted, waving an arm at the Fairy Circle village. "You don't belong here! Get out!!"

The knights trained their crossbows on the faun. Each was loaded with an iron bolt charged with magic and was strong enough to kill the average fairy. The faun scrambled to find another rock.

"Stop!" Theodore dashed into the line of fire, holding his arms out to shield the faun. "Are you insane?! Stand down!"

The soldiers lowered their aim. Theodore turned toward the faun, who glared at him with fierce eyes.

"Please don't do this," Theodore said. "The occupation won't be forever. This doesn't have to get ugly."

"Don't tell me that!" The faun said. He was years younger than Oboe, but he had the same fiery spirit. "All you humans care about is the Fount! You just want to get rid of us!"

"We're just here to keep order until a new Fair Lady is chosen," Theodore said. "Please. Go back inside. You need to trust us."

An older faun leaned out the porch of his home. "Bodhrán!" The parent called. "Listen to him! Come here! Now!"

The kid scoffed and brushed pass Theo. The door closed, and Theodore felt a small measure of relief. He glared at the knights and stormed off.

The marketplace was empty. It looked nothing like the bustling square Theodore remembered from when he first stepped into the Fairy Circle. The merchants were gone, too frightened to set up shop in the open. In their place was constant patrol of knights, armed with iron swords and crossbows.

Theodore sat by the well to polish his glasses, trying to calm down. When he finished, he looked up to see Knight Captain Myra Redriver. Her usual grin was absent, worn away. She was appointed as leader of this operation because of her experience fighting the Red Caps. She sat down beside him with a groan, looking as battered as the old plate mail armor she wore.

"It's getting worse," she said. It had been three weeks since the death of Bassoon. Three weeks since martial law was declared in the Fairy Circle. "The fairies get angrier every day we’re here."

"There's no excuse for pointing weapons at a civilian," Theodore said.

"I don't like it any more than you," Myra said. "Everyone's on edge."

Theodore sighed. The Fairy Circle was a powder keg and the knights were an open flame. "We should withdraw. Let the Fairy Circle sort out its own politics."

"That's not an option," she said. "We found too many spies in the city. Nobody goes home until we know we can trust the new fairy leader." She forced a smile for him. "That's why we need you to figure this out, Deputy."

Theodore grimaced. "I'm not the Ranger Deputy anymore. The Knight Detective stripped me of that rank. I'm not even supposed to be here."

She leaned close. "What they don't know won't hurt them." She almost knocked him out of his seat with a rough, but affectionate, slap on the back. "You've a way with these critters. I'd rather it be you at the council than any of us."

Theodore checked his pocket-watch. In less than an hour, the highest ranking of the Titled fey would converge on the fairy palace and start talks about how to elect a new Fair Lady. Thistle predicted that it would be weeks of bickering, scheming and power plays as each of the Titled would squabble to take power. It was not something Theodore was looking forward to.

Fairies did not have bloodlines of succession the way human kings or dukes did. Bassoon never appointed an heir. She had been in power for a thousand years and must've assumed she would continue to rule in perpetuity. It was a shock to the Circle, to the whole country of Laien, that the Fair Lady was dead.

Theodore stood up. "I should get going. I still have to find Oboe and cross the lake before the council starts."

"Good luck," Myra said. "I'll try not to burn down the Circle in the meantime."

All Theodore could do was nod. It felt like they were on the brink on a riot, or worse. He and Oboe were responsible for killing the Fair Lady. If there was anything he could do to help bring order back to the Circle, he owed it to the Whirlwood to try.


	2. Episode 7 Chapter 2

Oboe sat on a hillside overlooking the Fairy Circle and stared at the burns on her hands. Her blackened fingers itched under the bandages, still raw from the fight with grandmother, but Thistle had told her not the scratch. The fur could only grow back if she left the ointment alone. She tried to put the pain out of her mind. Somewhere below, Theo was waiting for her. She needed to get moving, but whenever she tried to move she felt stuck to the spot with tar.

It was so strange seeing the Circle just sitting there, out in the open. How many cold and lonely days had she looked off in the distance, wishing she could catch just a glimpse of her childhood home again? Well, there it was. Ripped from its hiding place for all to see; the Circle seemed like a great big festering zit on the face of the Whirlwood. Why had she wasted so many years praying for a chance to go back to that vile, wicked place? Because she was stupid, that's why.

No. Oboe shook her head. She was done blaming herself for the things that were wrong with the Circle. Even if she'd made mistakes, the biggest was believing she was the one at fault. 

"Oboe?" Theo hoisted himself up onto the plateau. He looked different, wearing a green sweater instead of his uniform. "There you are! I was looking for you!"

Her dark mood evaporated. She could not help but smile the moment she saw him. The whole world wasn't rotten.

"Sorry," she said as he helped her get back on her hooves. "I lost track of time."

"The council will start soon." His fingers lingered in Oboe's a moment longer. "We should start heading that way."

"...I don't know if I should go with you," she said. "I'm the one that killed Bassoon. They won't want me there." She tried to let go, but he held onto her.

"The Knights of the Realm will make sure you're safe," Theo said. "I won't force you, but I'd like you there. You look at things in a way I don't. It'd be better for everyone if we're both there to fix this."

Oboe's heart melted, just a little. Enough to convince her, against her better judgment, to go back to that awful place. "Okay," she said, and followed him down the hillside and through the gates of the fairy settlement.

The sights and sounds of the Outer Circle felt unreal. Human soldiers in breastplates and silver cloaks patrolled the dirt roads, hefting their weapons. Homes and storefronts were battened tight, with nervous eyes peeping through beaded curtains. The only other fairies they met on the way were quick to slip out of sight. Furies with sharp beaks and sharp eyes. Gnomes moving in packs, like one prickly mass. Leshy wrung their oaken hands, with branches of their brittle hair uneven and freshly broken. They all noticed Oboe as she came through, watching her with eyes wide. There were murmurs. Oboe wondered, with dread, about what they were saying. She scolded herself: it could be no worse than the things they always said.

Their boat landed on the shore of the inner circle with little time to spare. Knights escorted them through the gardens up to grandmother's palace. Furies stood guard and blocked the doorway with crossed halberds.

"Hey!" Oboe said. "What gives? Let us through!"

The spriggan did not budge. Their beaks tightened, and their eyes narrowed.

"Stand down!" The knights said. "This man is here to attend the council!"

The halberds whipped around, now pointed at the humans. The knights, spooked, unsheathed their swords and readied the shards of crystalline magic they wore around their necks.

"Wait!" Theo said. "There's no need to fight! Just tell us what's going on!"

"They are following orders," a voice called from inside the palace. Hooves clopped against the marble floor, and a chill wind blew from inside. A unicorn stepped out from the shadows beyond the archway, snowy white with a long neck, and a horn that stretched like a spear from her brow. She was draped in a light blue caparison, trimmed with gold to mark her as one of the Titled. "This is fairy business. No human may set foot inside the council."


	3. Episode 7 Chapter 3

"I am the Ranger Deputy of the Whirlwood," Theodore said. It was a lie, and he hated it, but it was the plan. "According to the peace treaties, I have the right to speak with the king's authority in any and all internal politics of this valley."

The unicorn trotted closer on cloven hooves. She whipped her lion's tail, and eyed him sideways with an electric blue gaze. Her body was slender, long and wiry, but her regal mane of wavy hair, and her icy confidence, made her seem much larger than she was.

"Correct me if I am mistaken," she said. "But there is a rumor that you have been relieved of that title."

Theodore felt a sinking sensation. He had hoped the news of his demotion would not spread so quickly. There was no Ranger Deputy now and it would take months to appoint a new one. Myra bent the rules by sending him here. If the Knights of the Realm forced themselves on the council, it would only escalate conflict.

"You've been misinformed," Theodore said, uneasy. "I've come to help resolve this crisis at the request of the crowned prince. I want only to restore peace between our people."

"Oho?" She studied him. The air grew colder. "I see. How very peculiar." Snowflakes drifted around the unicorn, dancing. "…Be that as it may, 'Deputy,' you are not needed. This is a fairy matter, and we do not need the help of humans meddling in our affairs."

"What's your problem??" Oboe pushed to the front to shout at the unicorn. "Theo came here to help and you’re treating him like an enemy! Let him help!!"

"Ah! Queenslayer!" The unicorn lifted a leg. There was an excitement in her voice that shocked Theodore. "I was hoping you would speak up. I was worried the humans had cut out your tongue. Have you come to attend the council? There is a seat saved for you."

"Huh??" Oboe said.

"Allow me to introduce myself," the unicorn said. "I am High Countess Beira Stormbreak, former advisor to our late Fair Lady. As you have taken the liberty of... dismissing her from her millennium of service, I and the Highest of the Titled are left to appoint a replacement. It would be an honor if you would join us."

"Wait," Theodore said, bewildered. "You WANT Oboe to attend?"

Beira nodded. "Of course. She has a claim to the throne, by right of conquest. A fairy cunning enough to slaughter Bassoon has earned the privilege to speak, provided that is the end of her violence."

Oboe gave Theodore a helpless look. "But I'm nameless."

"The situation is unprecedented, I admit," Beira said. "Named or not, you are Queenslayer."

"I'm not going without Theo," she said.

"Be at ease, then. Regardless of my opinion, I cannot stop the Ranger Deputy from attending. We will honor our ancient pact." The spriggan lowered their weapons, but Beira did not move from the doorway. "However, Deputy, you will honor that pact as well. You will come alone, and you will come unarmed. Your thugs will stay behind.

Myra's men looked at Theodore. "This isn't safe," one said. "Shall we gather more men? Force them to let you through with security?"

"An act of war," the unicorn said, eyes flashing. "The treaties promised the Circle autonomy. If you break that ancient covenant today, you proclaim to all the fey that our truce has come to an end. Are you that bold, Grayweather? Tell me."

"No," Theodore said. She was right. If the king's army forced itself on the council, it would violate the treaties. "This is a diplomatic mission. I agree to your terms."

"Splendid!" She stepped aside. "I trust the Queenslayer will be joining us?"

Oboe didn't move. Her face was tense and grave, her mind swimming through some distant thought.

"You don't have to go," Theodore told her. He should never have pressured her to return here.

"I'm not letting you go by yourself," she said.

"Come along then," Countess Stormbreak said. She led them inside at a canter, and a line of armed spriggan appeared to block the exit behind them. "I can't tell you how excited I am to hear about your vision for the future of our people, Queenslayer."


	4. Episode 7 Chapter 4

The door to the throne room opened and they were bathed with the sound of chamber music. A string quartet of sylph stroked their bony forearms against their instruments, milking out an elegant harmony together. A banquet of food was set out on long tables, laden with exotic fruits, wines, and flaky pastries. Fairies in gilded mantles mingled throughout.

"You're having a party?" Oboe said, wrinkling her nose. "Right now??"

"The Titled are accustomed to being entertained," Beira Stormbreak said. There was a hint of disgust in her voice. "The world is ending outside, but a bare minimum of pampering must be accomplished before any work can be done."

"I did not come here to feast," Theo said as a tray of food was presented to him. "I'm here to mediate on behalf of the crown."

"Oh, believe me, I am as anxious as you are," Beira said. "These fickle hens are impossible to motivate. They'll wait until the gong is rung and not a moment sooner. You might as well partake until then."

The food was offered to Oboe. The hors d'ouvres trembled when she reached out to take one. Little apple wedges with runny cheese on top were lined on a tray, held up by a frightened serving pooka. She had blue-gray fur, long floppy ears, and eyes she kept pointed at the floor. After Oboe took a morsel, the servant was quick to hurry away from her. It made Oboe sad to see her so scared. Forgetting to taste the food, she wondered what that creature's life was like.

"Deputy Grayweather? Oboe?"

Oboe looked up to see a nymph. Short, with chestnut skin and hair like braided grass. Her plain white hood was drawn, but her soft milky eyes were clear. Oboe recognized her. This was the priestess who had helped the fate-starved dream sowers affected by the Duke Ambergrail's fairy ban.

"Gardner Feather?" Theo said. "It's been a while."

"It is good to see you both again." She bowed. "I wish it were during a less troubled time."

"What are you doing here?" Oboe said. "Are you one of the Titled?"

She shook her head. "The Circle is honor bound to grant a seat and a voice to the church at times such as this. Although, they do not often listen to what we have to say, I am here to remind them that the Mother of Magic is watching. We must let Her guide us."

"Yes, yes, how wonderfully inspirational," Beira said, impatient. She craned her neck toward Oboe. "Queenslayer, may I trouble you to speak a moment in private?"

Oboe felt uneasy. She didn't want to stray too far from Theo, but he did not look at all frightened. He arched his eyebrows as if to give permission. "Um. I guess," she said.

The countess led her away.

"I admire you," the unicorn said. "You came and, in a few days, accomplished what I had only dreamed of for years. You freed us from a tyrant."

"I killed my grandmother," Oboe said.

"All the more incredible. I cannot tell you how glad I am to see you here at the council. It would be a shame if the one who gave us this opportunity was not here to participate. There is so much more work to be done."

Beira paraded her around the hall. Titled fey throughout the room reacted to the sight of Oboe with fright and surprise. She wished they wouldn't stare. The Countess seemed to delight in their reactions.

"I don't want to be here," Oboe said. "I only came so the Circle can become a better place."

"Then we are the same," Beira said. "We need bold voices to shake the Titled from their precious comfort. It is up to us to uproot them from stagnation and finish the work of liberation."

They approached a hulking bug creature, who was waddling back and forth along the buffet table. She was a sylph, like Thistle, but giant. A proboscis dangled from her face, sucking up the last of the frosted pastries. Her enormous abdomen dragged along the floor behind her and little normal sylph hovered nearby to collect any stray eggs she happened to lay.

"Hive mother!" Beira said, in a sing song voice. "It is so good to see you in the palace again after all this time. You are looking well. Have you had a chance to give any more thought to my proposal?"

Chitinous antennae twitched and swung in the direction of the unicorn. The Hive Mother's face was like a mask, with great black eyes that shined. She withdrew her proboscis and clattered her mandibles. 

"Countess Stormbreak, I have told you already." Her voice was loud and rumbly, like a train passing. "We will not help you. The Whirlskepp sylph have made a good life trading with the humans. There is nothing you can say that will make me throw that away."

"How unfortunate." Beira sighed. "Then let us talk about other things. Have you had a chance to meet the Queenslayer?"

Attention turned to Oboe. She held up a nervous hand. "Hello."

"The Queenslayer was just telling me how she thinks the Circle needs to change. Isn't that right?"

The Hive Mother's eyes shone brighter, staring. It made Oboe even more uncomfortable.

"Do not think you can threaten me, Stormbreak," she said. "The matter will be settled at the council, and no sooner." With that, she heaved herself in another direction and stomped away in the same hurry as the serving pooka.

"...Everyone's scared of me," Oboe said.

"Yes, they are," Beira said. "You're very lucky."

"Lucky?!" Oboe was baffled. "How am I lucky??"

"When other creatures are afraid of you, they listen." Beira dipped her snout in a punch bowl for refreshment. "It opens doors, and keeps enemies in check. Bassoon understood that. It's why she ruled as long as she did."

The praise did not sit well with Oboe. "I thought you said she was a tyrant."

"Yes, she was," Beira said. "A selfish, vile, overgrown weed that stunted the growth of our people for centuries. For what? So, so she could toy with the humans and extend her life forever?" She trotted around to look Oboe in the eye. "The Circle has so much potential, and she squandered it. You see that, don't you? That's why the Fates brought you to this moment. Something needs to change, and I think if we work together we can mold the Circle into what it was meant to become."

Something was wrong. The things Beira said sounded wonderful, but the words were honeyed. It reminded her too much of how grandmother spoke to her. Flattery and threats all used to point Oboe in a direction, a direction that hurt others. She didn't know what Beira really wanted, and she wasn't going to let herself be manipulated again.

"I don't know that we want the same things," Oboe said, tugging at her bandages. "You talk phony. You just tried to use me to talk the sylph into changing their mind. I don't trust you."

Beira shook her mane. "This is how the game is played, child. If you don't like it, help me change the rules."

Oboe didn't like her. "I'll decide who I want to help after I've heard everyone speak."

"As you will," she said, her tone turning sharp. "A word of warning, though. I meant what I said: It is time for the Circle to change. I won't let us fall into the old pattern, and I won't let the humans trample us. I WON'T, do you understand me? You and your conspirator are free to throw your lot in with whomever you choose, but if you get in my way, I promise that you will regret it." She turned and cantered off. "Change is coming. One way or another."


	5. Episode 7 Chapter 5

"They killed the Fair Lady!" The fury's head-feathers bristled. Her long beak was curved like a sickle. She moved across the banquet hall, her talons clicking against the floor, pushing past the Titled trying to calm her. Military honors decorated a sleeveless vest, which let her wings move free. "They have no right to sit with us! They have no right to breathe! Let us kill them and get about our business!"

Theodore had expected this from General Warsong. He made a point to do as much research as he could about all the Titled in attendance. What he hadn't expected was her to call for his and Oboe's death before the council even started.

"We aren't going anywhere, General," Theodore said. As aggressive as Warsong was, he knew by reputation that it would be far more dangerous to back down from her. "Your own laws are clear on the matter. Every creature has a right to defend itself when attacked. Bassoon meant to kill us."

"And she would have! But you employed a vorpal blade! There was no honor in how she was slain!"

The general's shouting drew the attention of the whole room. Oboe found him, rushed to his side. "Is she threatening you??"

He placed a grateful hand on the small of her back. "It's okay," he said, and stepped past her to lock eyes with Warsong.

"You're right," he told her. "It was not an honorable fight. Bassoon was a powerful fairy, perhaps the strongest this land will ever see. We did what we had to in order to survive, but I take no pride in it. I made certain that sword was dispelled and melted down."

Feather, the Gardner, spoke up. "Our Fair Lady was not known for her honor. She valued cunning. If power was ever to be taken from her, this is the only way she would've respected."

"I think we all want what's best for the Fairy Circle," Theodore said. "We may not agree on what that is, but I think we can all come together and debate in a way that's fair, a way that's honorable, we can arrive at one best vision for a future that can benefit everyone."

Theodore noticed something out of the corner of his eye. A team of serving gnomes scurried across the rafters overhead, dragging a big mallet. They clambered onto each other's shoulders, teetering, careful not to step on each other's quills. Together they swung the mallet and rung a big gong. The sound reverberated throughout the hall, washing away the tense mood and signaling that it was time for the council to begin.

"Very well," Warsong said. "I accept your challenge." She held out her hand and squeezed her clawed fingers into a fist. "I will OBLITERATE you in fair and civil debate and create a peace so lasting and perfect that you will despair at ever having set foot in our lands!" With that, she marched off to be the first one at the table. The crowd thinned, climbing the stairs after her, toward what promised to be a long and arduous day.

"You got her to calm down," Oboe said.

"Just barely," Theodore said. "Thank you for being ready to step in." He felt safer and bolder with her at his side. "Here's more good news. Gardner Feather is on our side."

She bowed. "Some of the Titled are calling for rebellion against the crown. I want to advocate for the alliance to be maintained. Despite the problems between our peoples, I believe the path of cooperation is what the Mother expects from all her children."

Something was troubling Oboe. "...I think Beira is one that wants to rebel," she said. "We can't trust her. She's sneaky and she's angry about the humans being here."

"I think everyone's upset about that," Theodore said. The City Watch and the Knights of the Realm certainly were not excited about maintaining martial law. "They're all scared because their home's been invaded. That's okay. We can reason with them."

"I don't know." Oboe's eyes drifted toward the heraldry hanging throughout the hall. Old banners bearing the Fair Lady's emblem, the acorn and its keyhole, Oboe's family's crest, were left over from her regime. "It's like grandmother is still here. Like she left a curse, and everyone thinks like she did. I hate it."

"We must have faith that these things can change," Feather said. "If we're patient, and work together, perhaps we can sway their hearts and show them a better way."

Lips tight and brow stooped, Oboe did not look convinced.


	6. Episode 7 Chapter 6

The arguments started before everyone was seated. The palace solarium, with its tall wide windows peering out over the Circle and the valley beyond, was prepared to host the Council. A massive, round, oaken table had been assembled and matched with plush chairs, benches and cushions to accommodate every type of body. Theodore entered to find they'd dawdled too long, and the first shouting match had started without him.

"Are you BLIND or STUPID?" A pooka rabbit, with silky black fur and a plum colored coat, stomped across the table. "Look outside! The humans are everywhere! Are we supposed to tolerate this? Wait until they cross the lake to depose us? Tell me!" Theodore guessed this was Countess Thornberry. She was using the table to add to her height, which was necessary because she was arguing with High Lady Willow: A leshy who, even sitting, loomed over her.

"Think about this, you little rat," Willow said. Her long hair hung in a thicket of brambles over her diaphanous robes. "This is not a fight we can win. Even if we drive the knights from our land, more will come. Picking a fight will drag us all into an endless bloody war with the most powerful kingdom on the continent."

"Then you say we should roll over!" General Warsong snapped her beak. "Let them have their way with us!"

"I have a better idea," Theodore said. He picked up two chairs and made a place for himself and Oboe at the table. "We work through this. There's no need for a war, and there's no need for the Circle to lose its sovereignty."

"Look, you see?" Thornberry gestured with a padded paw. "There's even a human in the palace! They've even taken our right to speak freely!"

"Let the human hear." Beira Stormbreak sounded amused. "Let him see that we are not afraid. The fairies of the Whirlwood were here before the humans came, and we will remain long after they are gone."

The last of the highest of the Titled found a spot at the table. Each was a leader of one form or another, who told other leaders what to do. They seemed the same as the nobles in the capital: they were accustomed to having their way.

"It's been demonstrated that Bassoon planned to overthrow the king with the help of a Feymire Army," Theodore said. "It's impossible for us to know who among you were complicit with this scheme, and it's understandable that you all would be anxious about what the crown intends to do as a result. Let me assure you that our purpose here is simple. Our peoples have been friends for generations. I want to do everything possible to make sure that continues."

"'Friends.'" Beira smacked her lips, as if tasting the word for the first time. "Tell me, Deputy, is it friendship that compelled you humans to place a ban on fairies in your city? Is friendship the reason why our streets are overflowing with soldiers armed with iron weapons? I'm very curious."

Gardner Feather stood up. "With respect, Countess, it should be clear that we have lost the trust of the humans. Whatever other problems we have, there is no denying that Bassoon acted wickedly."

"Take that back!" An old gnome Baroness said. "I'm not going to sit here and listen to you insult our Fair Lady!"

Oboe slammed a fist onto the table, drawing everyone's attention. Her face was clenched as tight as her hand. "My grandmother was wicked. She hurt creatures, she planted spies, and all she cared about was herself! She's the reason this happened."

"Shut up, nameless!" The gnome said. "No one gave you permission to speak!"

The Hive Mother let out a low grumble. "Baroness, any creature capable of slaying the Fair Lady is worthy of our respect."

"A nameless is less than a creature," said High Lady Willow. "A nameless is nothing. Yet she is here, a living insult. A murderer and a traitor. She is the real cause of this disaster."

"Don't blame a soldier for following orders," Countess Beira said. "It's obvious she slew our Fair Lady to help her human masters. That is where you should direct your outrage."

Theodore felt a flicker of anger he had to stifle. Caution was needed. The wrong choice of words could do more damage than good. He looked at his friend. She glared past the Titled, enduring their words.

"Queenslayer is name enough," the Hive Mother said. "She is here by rights. As long as her violence has ended, the law says she is welcome."

"Yes, I agree." Beira tilted her head toward Theodore. "Might I suggest a shorter leash for your mongrel? She looks ready to bite."

Oboe muttered something.

"What was that?"

"I said you deserve this!" She said. "You're awful! I hope the humans take over! I hope they punish all of you!!"

An icy mood descended over the room. Theodore itched with panic. He could not fault Oboe's anger, but they were standing on the edge of a dangerous cliff. He got up.

"I want to propose a solution."

"Do you." Countess Thornberry looked prepared and ready to be unimpressed. "What is it that you have to say that could possibly fix all of this?"

"You want our forces to leave. I respect that. The treaties promised fairies authority over their own affairs, and we are an outside force exerting control. The King wants is to know that the conspiracy to overthrow him died with Bassoon. What's needed is transparency. If the new Fair Lady can consent to routine inspections, proving you mean no ill will, I can persuade the knights to withdraw and leave you to govern yourselves."

"Ridiculous!" Warsong said. "You expect us to expose ourselves so fully?"

"Do you mean to say your soldiers cannot protect you if you show them to us?" Theodore said. "Or are you saying you aren't brave enough to trust us?"

The General's feathers puffed, furious at both slights. "No! Do not be absurd. Fine. Inspect our forces, and know we aren't afraid of you!"

"I believe this offer is the best we can hope for," Feather said. "It will take time and effort to rebuild trust with the humans, but the Deputy is giving us a clear road to that goal."

A gentle murmur rose up among the Titled. Theodore relaxed. He could feel the tension lift. He could hear argument, but the fairies were considering accepting his plan.

"I have a question," Beira said. "On what authority do you intend to arrange all of this?"

Theodore paused. Something was wrong. "On my authority as Ranger Deputy."

"I see." Beira looked off to the side, and a serving nymph approached holding a piece of parchment. She offered it to Beira's neighbors. "I ask, because it's come to my attention that you were fired from that position. I present a copy of the form we intercepted."

"This is an official dismissal!" Countess Thornberry said, passing it off to the next creature. "Signed and sanctioned! He isn't the Ranger Deputy anymore!"

"Do you deny these facts?" Beira asked Theodore.

Theodore hesitated. "I--"

"What is this?!" General Warsong said. "A trick? He has no title!"

"So what?!" Oboe shouted. "Why does it matter if Theo has a title?? He's trying to help everyone!

"If he has no title, then he has no right to be here," said High Lady Willow. "He has no authority! He can't change anything! This is a waste of our time. Call the spriggan! Get rid of him!"

Fairy soldiers approached Theodore from behind and took hold of his shoulders. "Wait," he said. "I may not be Ranger Deputy, but I can still make this work! I can help you!"

"Let go of him!" Oboe said.

Beira crept around the bend of the table, chuckling to herself. "How did you put it before? Every creature has a right to protect itself. I won't let you deceive us, and I won't let humans take advantage of us." She turned to order the spriggan. "Throw him out.""

"No!" Oboe knocked her chair over, spinning around to fight. "I won't let you!"

"Oboe, don't!" Theodore said, holding a hand out to stop her. "She's right. I don't have a right to be here." He presented himself to the spriggan to be escorted out. "I wanted to help, but I refuse to start a war. I'll go."


	7. Episode 7 Chapter 7

There was nothing Oboe could do. The palace doors slammed shut. Theo offered the best chance there was for peace and the Titled threw him away. Just like how Oboe was thrown away all those years ago.

Theo turned away. “Come on.” He let out a pained sigh. “We have to tell the Knight Captain the bad news.”

Oboe lingered, staring at the door and hating the Titled. She followed him down the steps to the shore and felt something harden inside her. The Titled were stupid, wicked, and cruel. She climbed into the boat, clenched the oars with tight fists, and rowed. She rowed to get them away from this place. She rowed to use up the anger building inside her. But it didn’t work. There was more hate in her heart than there was water to cross.

Something else was wrong. They landed on the far shore and heard shouting. Theo, alarmed, leapt onto the docks to see what was happening. Fairies in the street rushed to find places to hide. Whispers were cut short. A team of knights set up a blockade and it was all over before Oboe and Theo arrived.

"What's going on??" Oboe said.

"Militants.” The watchman grimaced. "Got bloody with our lads again. Sent some of us to the healer. Took a squad and a half to get them all in irons."

He let them pass. They followed the sound of hollering up the hill and found the source of the commotion. A nymph, bound in chains, flailed in the muddy yard of an old apple mill.

"This is our home!" His skin was like mossy river stone. His eyes burned white. "You think you can just waltz in and take over?!" He struggled to free his arms, to keep fighting. "You're weeds! You hear me?! You've got no right!"

"Pipe down already!" The lead knight kicked the nymph onto his backside. The other captives, a mix of fairy creatures, stirred at the sight. "Make us regret letting you live! I dare you!"

Theo frowned at the violence. "Where’s Captain Redriver?"

They were sent to wait for her at an inn the Knights of the Realm had commandeered for its operations. Myra arrived not long after, her right arm in a sling. The bone was broken.

"I was lucky," she said without sounding grateful. "Serves me right for trying to do things your way. Tell me you've got good news."

They didn't. It upset Oboe to hear Theo recount their failure. It hurt worse when her brother Fife joined them and she had to listen to the whole story all over again. Fife was anxious for news on what was happening at the council, but hearing it didn’t make him any happier.

"I didn't think things could get any worse." Fife paced the confines of the inn, tugging at his thinning chin beard. "Clearly I wasn't imaginative enough! What are we supposed to do now?"

Oboe slumped deeper into her chair. She didn't know. She felt helpless, like that nymph they saw. Chained up, useless, and angry. She could kick and scream and shout but it wouldn’t help. All she could do was listen to her brother and everyone else panic over how bad she and Theo screwed up.

"We'll use force," Myra said. Her patience was spent. "If this council doesn't want to hear Grayweather out, I'll round up the men and MAKE them listen to him."

It was an idea Oboe liked. It would put the Titled in their place, but she already knew what Theo was going to say.

"Absolutely not." His hands were steepled and tense. He sat at the table with all the fresh drawn maps, thinking and thinking and thinking. "Breaking the treaties is not an option. The Titled are backed into a corner. This can only turn nasty if we push them."

"We can't just let them be!" Fife said. "The knights are on the king's orders to stay until they know the Circle can be trusted. That's not going to happen if the Titled won't even talk to us!"

"...There's another option." Theo was reluctant to name it. "We could send Oboe."

She swallowed. She wanted to shrink into a mouse to hide in the chair cushions, but it was too late. Everyone was looking at her. Thrashing to sit up, stiff, she tried to look back at them.

"I can't."

"But you can!" Fife said. "Even if they don't listen to you, they have to at least let you in the door! You're the Queenslayer!"

"I'm not going back there by myself!" Oboe said, planted firm and heavy in her seat. "I'm not like Theo. I don't know how to talk careful, and I hate them! I hate all of them!” Sending her would be the same as letting that nymph go free. She would rage and fight and hate and she knew that wasn’t the answer. “I'd just make things worse!"

"You'd be better than nothing," Myra said.

“You don’t need a brute like me!” Oboe said. “You need Theo!”

Myra clawed at her own face. “But we can’t send him!”

"Then send someone else!" Oboe said. "Fife should go! He'd be good at it!"

Her brother let out a bitter laugh. "Are you joking? Do you think the council would ever listen to what a male fairy has to say? We're too flighty, too headstrong and temperamental. And let's not forget that I'm a traitor. I didn't slay the fairy queen. I'm just an accessory, beneath consideration! The only thing the Titled respect are titles."

Theo made a noise. A long gravelly sigh that pained him. He looked at Oboe, weighing everything in that head and needing an answer. She met his gaze.

He was asking too much. It was more than she could bear to go back to that wicked den of lies and tricks. Not by herself. Not without him. She wasn’t strong enough. It was more than she could bear.

"Are you going to make me go?” She said, staring.

Theo softened, sympathy welling up in his kind eyes.

"No,” he said. “You've been through enough."

Myra’s groan was half snarl. "Then we're right back where we started! What are we supposed to do?!"

Theo opened his mouth, hesitating. “There’s one other option.”

Oboe felt she might burst from relief. “There is??”

Theo pushed his chair back and got up to gather his things. “Fife is right. A title is the only way I can solve this. There's no other choice. I have to become the Ranger Deputy again."


	8. Episode 7 Chapter 8

The royal guard read the letter a third time, squinting through the eyepiece of an adderstone. Theodore waited while the knight took his time comparing his identification against other lists and forms. It was difficult not to think about how little time it would take for the situation in the Fairy Circle to erupt into chaos.

"I can't let you into the castle," the guard said. He folded the documents and handed them back.

"And why not?" Theodore tried to keep his composure but wrinkled the letter by mistake. He held the seal up to the guard's face, as if he hadn't already seen it. "This is an official request from Governor Farbend that I be granted an audience with the king!"

The guard folded his arms, and the men on either side of him squared their shoulders. "I don't care who wrote the letter. Knight Detective Whitechain has you listed as a security risk."

Theodore silently cursed Conrad for his thorough and admirable dedication to proper procedure. "This is important! Please! Can you at least tell the King I need to speak with him?"

"I'll give you a choice," the knight said. "Either get lost, or I'll have you detained for suspicious activity."

Smoothing the wrinkles out of his documents, Theodore turned and strode off in a huff. His march back down Crown Hill Road slowed to a trudge. Officials in burgundy pushed past him on business as he made his way back into the city. There, under the shadow of the castle where the street plunged, he found Oboe. She sat where he'd left her, on the patio of an old brick café, waiting for the world to end.

"It didn't work." The defeat in her voice was too much to bear. 

"The governor's best wasn't good enough," Theodore said, slouching into the seat beside her. "They won't let me see the king."

"What about Percy?" She said. "Percy would help us!"

Theodore rubbed his face, frustrated. "I can't even get in the door!" He let his glasses fall back onto his nose. The suggestion sent his mind working. He glanced back up at the palace, with its towers rising high over the city. Maybe he didn’t have to use the door. "I have an idea."

Oboe gulped down the last of her hot cocoa so they could leave. He brought her into a secluded alleyway, where he explained what he had in mind.

"I don't like this," she said while Theodore undid his shirt buttons.

"If Bassoon was able to get one of her whispers inside the castle, it might still be possible." He hoped the royal guard had the good sense to tighten security, while also hoping they did not. "I don't think the king will help us unless we go through the proper channels, but Perceval might. We just need to get close enough to at least talk to him."

"I'm not going to transform you again!" Oboe said. She leaned in, dropping to a hush. "My magic is wrong. It's against the law."

"There's nothing wrong with your magic! The law is there to prevent its abuse, but maybe the law isn't perfect." Theodore hesitated with taking off his pants. She'd seen him before, but he still blushed at the intimacy of it. "I trust you. You'd never use your magic to hurt anyone. Right now, it's one of the only options we have. It'll just be for a little bit."

He folded his clothes and tucked them away behind a crate. Oboe stared at him, eyes trembling. Her gazed darted across him. She stepped closer.

"I... Okay." She placed her hands on the scar on his chest. Her touch sent his heart racing. "Thank you," she said. "For trusting me."

He shook his head, feeling distracted. "I need to be something small. Something that can go unnoticed."

She nodded, and the magic flowed out of her. He felt himself shrink down to the cobblestone. Six legs and antennae. There was even a little copper band around the foreleg that had been his ring hand. He was an ant again.

After unwrapping her bandages, Oboe shifted into a blue bird. She hopped close and he climbed onto her back. Theodore gripped her feathers tight as she rose into the sky to circle the tower.

"Get us closer!" Theodore said, having to shout over the wind. "So we can see in the windows!"

"Hold on!" She swooped to get near, but something happened. There was a spark of light and a translucent barrier of magic could be seen for half a moment. Oboe bounced off, tumbling through the air. Theodore clung to keep from falling until she righted herself.

"Too close!" She said.

Theodore saw now the glyphs and wards along the walls, set up to prevent intrusion. Oboe tried to keep them near enough to scout, and only got knocked back one more time.

"There he is!" Theodore said, spotting Perceval through a window.

She lighted on a buttress near that window, and he scuttled off her back. The wards would not be perfect. If Theodore kept his distance, he could creep between the range of each and hopefully make it. If he misjudged this, the spell would activate and fling him to his death.

"If I fall," he said, wanting very badly for that not to happen, "I need you to catch me."

"I won't let you get hurt," she said.

Theodore crept onto the wall, his tiny claws sticking to the stone. He set his eyes on the prince’s room high up in the tower, and tried not to look down.


	9. Episode 7 Chapter 9

"Let's say that Korveil offers to open its border to us in trade. What factors should you consider before responding?"

Theodore hauled himself onto the windowsill, grateful beyond words to have survived the climb. On the other side was a simple bedroom. It reminded him of the one he saw inside Duke Ambergrail’s dream. There was a bed, a wardrobe, and textbooks scattered everywhere but not much else. Protective runes lit up the interior stone walls. A bored and bearded guard kept watch at the only door, while a tutor in bright red robes and hooped earrings lectured. Prince Perceval sat at a desk in the center, taking notes and fighting off a wandering gaze.

"Korveil is a mineral rich country," Perceval said. "Our industrial productivity would greatly increase if we had access to their raw materials, but I'd be very leery of agreeing without a major commitment from them to keep the trade roads safe. Historically, they've disavowed responsibility for dealing with highway bandits within their borders."

"Wrong!" The tutor said. Apparently, she was looking for a much more specific answer. "If you'd read the chapter instead of daydreaming, you'd know you need to engage in circumspection. Korveil knows what we want and would only offer this to squeeze concessions from us. No doubt they'd want reparations for their failed military campaigns against us!"

Under normal circumstances, Theodore would've been interested in hearing more of this lecture. However, he was pressed for time. He scaled the desk leg, trying not to be seen. There had to be a way to talk to the prince without drawing attention from the teacher or guard. He skittered between cover, from behind trenches of textbooks and stationary, and dipped is foreleg into an ink well. From there he rushed onto the prince’s notepaper, trying not to drip, and scrawled out the words ‘THIS ANT IS THEO’ as legibly as he could.

When Perceval looked down, he did a double take. His eyes darted. The tutor was occupied with a condescending review of the fundamentals of foreign policy. The prince lowered his sleeve to the desk and gestured for Theodore to enter with his finger.

"Professor," He said. "I need to use the water closet."

"What?” She said. “You just went!"

"I suppose I wasn't done."

She grumbled. "Then make sure you are this time. I'm not paid by the hour."

The royal guard undid locks and chains on the door and escorted the prince out, joined by another keeping watch on the other side of the door. Theodore dangled inside the sleeve until Perceval shut the bathroom door. He ran the faucet to mask their voices.

"Theo?" He said. "Is that really you?"

Theodore crawled up to his shoulder. "Yes. This is Oboe's magic. It's the only way I could contrive to speak to you."

"I'm not surprised." He slouched onto the toilet. "Did you get my letters?"

"No. What letters?" Theodore thought. "I was forced to leave the cottage."

"That's what I was worried about." Perceval groaned. "Conrad told father you're not to be trusted. I stood up to them, and now they both think I'm an idiot! Father put me back on heavy watch, and now I have no idea what's going on."

"Things are bad in the Circle. We're a breath from things turning violent, but the fairy council won't talk to anyone who's not the Ranger Deputy. I need the King to give me my title back."

The prince glowered. "Father's not going to help us. I could help you meet with him, but I think he'll only listen to Conrad now." He leaned forward. "If I could leave the castle, I could pull some strings, but I can't. I'm stuck here."

"Is there anything you can do from here?" Theodore said.

The gears were turning. "I can sign a new royal appointment. But I won't be there to handwave procedure. You'll have to follow all the rules to become a knight proper."

Theodore felt fresh hope spring up. Protocol was something he could deal with. "Conrad had me fired because I was appointed without the qualifications. If I can earn an Advanced Knight Training certificate, I can get my title back."

"Yes!" Perceval stood up. He froze, realizing he had said that too loud. He pulled the flush chain to maintain the illusion. "I can authorize you to take that test. Where can I send the forms?"

"I have a room at the Red Orchard inn on the trade road."

The prince shuffled around the bathroom, wagging his arms with anxiety. "This might only buy you time. Conrad said he has a plan to get rid of you."

"I don't care," Theodore said. "I need to fix this whether he likes it or not."

The guards knocked on the door. "Are you done in there?! Hurry up!"

The prince ignored them. He straightened his tunic and took a deep breath. "If you need to reach me, sign your letters as Prince Horace. He's very boring, and they won't bother reading my mail from him."

"That's a good plan," Theodore said.

The prince hovered at the door. Something was stopping him.

"Is Oboe okay?"

"She's fine," Theodore said, but realized that wasn't really true. "This has all been very hard on her."

He looked at the floor. "A lot of what happened to you is my fault," he said. "You deserve better. If things get bad, if things really go to pieces, I want you to take care of her. I want you to promise you'll go somewhere safe where you can be happy no matter what happens here."

"It's not going to come to that," Theodore said.

The prince opened the door, and Theodore hid in the folds of his clothes. He left Perceval to write and mail the authorizations that would be key to his success. Crawling out along the castle walls, Theodore looked to find Oboe again.


	10. Episode 7 Chapter 10

The prince's letter came that evening, delivered to the inn by courier bird. Theodore wasted no time. He buried himself in books on knighthood, combing through guidelines and protocol, burrowing deep into their appendices and scratching reminders and notes into memory. He wanted a week to study, but there wasn't time for that. He presented himself the next day to the central barracks, royal appointment in hand.

The exam room emptied as each knight hopeful turned in their test before Theodore. He went over every question three times, squeezing the allotted hour for every minute. The questions were all about things he thought he knew, but the cost of failure twisted doubt into every line. Theodore never prayed, but found himself muttering 'please' over and over as he set down his pencil and surrendered his exam.

The applicants stood in a line in the hall while they waited to be graded. After an eternity, the test proctor swung out with a stack of papers in hand. A knight veteran, with a sword at his belt and a snow-white mustache.

"There is more to being a knight than swinging a sword," he said, handing out results that crushed spirits. "To join an advanced knight order, you must know the law and how to uphold it. If you have fallen short, know that Laien accepts only the best of the best. Study, train, and return when you are worthy."

The cadets filed out with hung heads one after the other, leaving only three. Theodore took his results with shaking hands.

"As for you few that made it this far..." The proctor indulged in a smirk. "Report to the training yard at your assigned time for the combat portion of the exam. Swinging a sword isn't all there is, but you'd better be damned good at it."

The afternoon sun fought against the autumn chill. Theodore held the practice sword out, standing at the center of the barracks training yard four. Leading with his left leg, he raised his arms and took the ox stance. It was good for thrusting attacks or diagonal swipes but offered minimal protection. Shifting his posture to the plow stance, then the fool, the roof, and then back again to the ox. The motion was stiff, but his muscles remembered the endless drills his father had forced him through.

Lance said the fool stance was vital to baiting your opponent. You looked more vulnerable than you were, and were poised to answer their next attack. Ox, plow, fool, roof. No. There was supposed to be five pillars. He was forgetting the tail. Theodore held the sword behind, letting it point to the ground.

He stepped across the training courtyard, swinging the blade and shifting from one stance to another. He almost tripped. Was this how he positioned his grip? Why was it so hard to remember when he had spent so much time on this? There was so much more to remember: variations, permutations, special stances, and exceptions for every circumstance. Theodore had suffered through so many lectures and had tried to forget all of it. It was all still there, just buried. Remembering was like pulling up brittle tree roots. He would grasp at a memory, only for it to snap in his hand and leave him with only a part of the whole.

"I'm an idiot," he said. "I spent all my time reading books when this is where I'm weakest." The test duel would start soon, and now there was no time.

Oboe pulled a dull sword off the rack and marched up to him.

"I'll help you practice," she said. "Pretend I'm the test guy."

Theodore stared at the weapon. "That's iron. It's not safe for you to hold that."

"Don't worry about me! Come on!"

She swung, and Theodore stepped back. She charged, waving her weapon in every direction. The action woke something in him, let him stop thinking and just move. He dodged to let her run past him. She spun to face him without stance or form, and he knocked the blade from her unguarded grip. A kick sent her into the dirt, and one thrust of the ox meant victory.

His arm locked up. The sword shook in his hand, pointed at Oboe. Ella's dying eyes flashed in his mind. Silas screamed. The nymph's severed head sailed through the air.

Oboe kicked Theo, knocking his legs out from under him and toppling him.

"What's your problem??" She hopped back up. "Why'd you stop?"

"I... didn't want to hurt you," he said.

She conked him on the head with her sword. "They're not real, dummy! My nails are sharper than this! You're here to show you can fight. You know how, you just need to stop being nice!"

"I know that," Theodore said, sitting up. He looked at Oboe's big brown eyes, so determined to help him, so certain and good and dear to him, and he couldn't imagine even pretending to hurt her. "I know I have to do this. It's just hard."

"Then let's keep practicing until you can do it." She reached out her hand to help him stand.

The gate of the courtyard opened, shrieking on its rusted hinge. A man in a hunter's cloak and a cavalier hat swept through, followed by a band of other knights. Conrad Whitechain lifted the brim of his hat to glare at Theodore.

"Grayweather," he said.

Theodore grabbed Oboe's hand, and was on his feet again. "Detective. To what do I owe seeing you here?"

"The knights on prince duty told me about your little scheme." He walked in a slow circle around Theodore. "They confiscated a royal appointment letter from Perceval but failed to stop him from sending another. I'm disgusted by how well you've manipulated the boy, but fortunately for us you were sloppy. Did you believe I'd allow you to worm your way back into power?"

"Theo got permission!" Oboe said. "You can't stop him from taking the test!"

"I know." Conrad removed his hat. An attending knight took it and placed a sword from the rack in his hand. "Which is why I've arranged to administer your practical combat exam."

"What?" Theodore said. "How?"

The Knight Detective unbuckled his cloak and tossed it aside to reveal a light fencing uniform. "I train cadets here, just like your father did. I merely had to ask to be the one to test you. But do not worry, I've no intention of cheating." He gestured towards a tall grim, woman in plate mail. "Spy Hunter Fullhound will officiate. This will be a duel until she calls its end. Make no mistake, I will not allow a wretch like you to hold sway over Laien again."

"Conrad, you're making a mistake!" Theodore said. "I'm not actually a Feymire spy! I'm trying to help the Fairy Circle! Let's talk about this!"

"Keep your excuses." Conrad snapped his sword into the ox stance. "Your actions speak loud enough."

Spy Hunter Fullhound chopped her hand through the air. "The combat test starts now! Begin!"


	11. Episode 7 Chapter 11

Conrad's sword cracked the air like a whip before Theodore was ready. There was only enough time to tumble away, Theodore's footing ruined. The detective pivoted and launched another attack that flowed into the next, and then another, and another. Theodore could only backpedal as each swipe left him the most breathless windows to evade.

"Stay in the ring, Grayweather!" Conrad said, laughing. "Unless you're ready to forfeit?"

This was not an exam. Conrad was throwing everything he had into this assault. Years of practiced technique against the years Theodore spent sitting at a desk. He was relentless. Theodore's heel touched the edge of the ring. He couldn't let Conrad keep driving him back like this.

The detective's form was familiar. It was the same as Lance's. The Hero Champion taught the detective how to fight. They had the same training. That meant Theodore knew what was coming.

Theodore saw through a feint. He caught the real attack with his cross guard, and rammed Conrad with his shoulder. It was enough to push him back and gain ground. No more hesitation. Theodore lunged, striking his opponent square in the chest.

"Point to Grayweather!" Fullhound said.

"He won?!" Oboe said.

"It's three to win," Theodore said, panting.

Conrad readied his sword with a flourish. "Impressive. I expected nothing less from the son of Lance, but that is the last point you'll take."

Theodore could do this. He had the height advantage. The detective couldn't use his magic or gadgets in this duel. It didn't matter how long Conrad had trained under the Hero Champion, Theodore already had all his techniques drilled into him. He just needed to stay focused.

"Begin!"

Conrad hurled himself into another flurry of swipes. Not this time. Theodore dodged to his flank and drove his opponent into a corner by matching his pace. Prodding attacks, testing Conrad's guard, looking for the chance to take him by surprise. Opportunity came. Conrad lowered his sword, and Theodore reeled back to take his next point.

It was the fool stance. Theodore saw it too late. Conrad hacked at Theodore's leg and sent him crashing face first into the dust.

"Theo!"

"Point to Whitechain!"

"Pathetic," Conrad said. "He would be ashamed to see what you've become."

Theodore got up, staggered. "I'm not your enemy! We both want to protect Laien!"

"Is that why you smuggled the prince? Because you care about what happens to this country?"

"Percy came back!" Oboe said. "He pardoned us!"

"He took responsibility for his actions. Have you?" He took the plow stance. "I've read your reports, Grayweather. The Fair Lady is dead because of you two. Whatever lies you need to tell to justify it, you're still the one that created this crisis! Why should we trust you to fix it!?"

"Begin!"

Theodore needed to focus. Conrad was too fast. Any lapse of attention was dangerous. They paced around one another, watching. Neither was making the first move.

"The Fair Lady was plotting with Feymire to take over!" Theodore said. "We had to stop her!"

"You confessed to being a Feymire spy. Who knows the truth anymore?"

"I lied to protect Oboe!" He slashed, and Conrad caught the strike on the strong of his blade. "You were going to kill her!"

The detective grabbed Theodore and knocked the sword out of his hand. Conrad's blunt blade thrust to caress Theodore's bare neck.

"Point to Whitechain!"

"You're a liar, Theodore." Contempt seethed across Conrad's face. "But that doesn't matter. It only takes a bit of looking to see what kind of Ranger Deputy you've been. Shall I count your crimes?"

Theodore said nothing. Conrad pulled away, taking up his position across the ring.

"This wasn't the first time you used illegal magic to attack an allied creature, is it?"

Picking up his sword, Theodore looked at the copper ring on his finger. He could still sense the Tall Man, miles away in the valley. The ghast was almost killed because of him.

"Begin!"

Oboe had dealt the killing blow to Bassoon, but he was still the one who found the vorpal sword and helped her use it. The death of the Fair Lady was in part his doing. He remembered the sting of excitement he felt when he cut open Ella. A chasm opened up inside him.

Conrad lunged, and Theodore just barely jumped out of reach.

"You can do this Theo!!" Oboe shouted. "Don't listen to him!!"

He couldn't afford to make any more mistakes. Theodore danced out of the way of the next few attacks, ready to guard. He could still see every technique Conrad was using, but it was harder to connect the dots when blood was pooling in his mind. Focus.

"Please," Theodore said.

Conrad held the roof stance, bringing it down with overhead chops. Theodore leaned away from each. He knew the answer to this attack, he could see his father speaking wordless in a fog. He couldn't hear what he was saying. All Theodore could remember was his own crying. His father held the sword with one hand on the blade, and used the cross guard like a hook.

Their swords rang as Theodore blocked the next strike. He snagged Conrad's sword with the cross guard, and disarmed him with one yank. Theodore leapt forward to claim the round.

Something happened. Conrad grabbed him, pulling him forward into a grapple. Before Theodore knew what was going on, the detective was behind him. A sharp twist of pain in his wrist. Conrad took his sword. He was kicked, staggered, and then the blade came down on his shoulder.

"No!!" Oboe said.

"Point to Whitechain!"

Theodore fell to his knees. It happened. He'd lost. Oboe tried to run to his side, but Conrad pointed his sword at her.

"Stay back, faun. We aren't done."

"What are you talking about?" Theodore said. "You've won!"

"Then do you give up?" Conrad made a taunting shrug. "Let me hear you say it. Lance's own son can't go on. Say it."

"I can't give up," Theodore said, forcing himself onto his feet. "I need to become the Ranger Deputy."

"Then pick up that sword!" Conrad said. "Show me!"

Theodore bent to retrieve the fallen weapon and felt a sharp pain in his shoulder. He turned to face his opponent, his mind fuzzy.

"Begin!"

Conrad held out his sword. "Duke Ambergrail was cursed by a wicked fairy. A fairy YOU brought to the university with the claimed intent to help him."

Before Theodore could respond, Conrad smashed him in the ribs with his sword.

"Point to Whitechain!"

"You confessed, under oath, to treason against your home country."

Theodore weaved out of the way of an attack, his head swimming. The next one was too quick for him.

"Point to Whitechain!"

"You were accessory to the assassination of the Fair Lady. Slain without trial or evidence."

He didn't have the energy to move. Conrad battered him across the head and let him fall to the ground.

"Stop!!" Oboe said. "Why are you doing this?!"

Conrad pointed his sword at Theodore. "This snake wormed his way into an office he knew he was not qualified for. He abused his power and threatened the balance of the kingdom I serve." He spat, looking down at Theodore. "Well? Is that it? Do you give up?"

Theodore tried to lift himself off the ground. He needed to get up, but every time he did he was struck down again. He wasn't strong enough.

Conrad's eyes were a hanging noose: Tight and final. "If it weren't for your pardon, I'd have you in chains already. No matter. In a week, I'll have you stand before the court again. This time Perceval won't be there to spare you. I'll make certain you are held accountable for every crime you've committed. You are a blight on your father's name, and I will not stand for it." He dropped the practice sword. "Don't come back."


	12. Episode 7 Chapter 12

Theodore set the offering bowl down at his father's grave. It was a tall slab of black slate, pointed like a blade and rising high above the other identical stones marking the final resting places of the Grayweathers that came before. The base was crowded with other tributes: weathered flowers and beads from the Hero Champion's many admirers.

It was Feroxian custom that, once a year, should distance allow, the first born of every household honor the memory of a dead father by performing a small ritual. It was something Theodore had seen his father perform many times, but not a rite he had ever performed himself. Theodore had his excuse: in Laien, you took your father's name and you took your mother's tribe. By law he was Alenian, and had no obligation to do this.

That wasn't the real reason he had never done it.

"Are you happy?" Theodore said. "This is what you wanted. That I get my act together. That I try to become a knight like you."

The grave wasn't capable of saying anything.

Theodore exhaled. He wondered why he was wasting his time. Fishing out a matchbook from his pocket, he tried and struggled to light one. He knelt, cradling the flame in his palm, and lit the incense.

A rosy wooden scent drifted in the breeze over his offering. It was a bowl of his father's favorite food, a scoop of strawberry ice cream that was melting too fast. Theodore sat across from the grave and imagined his father.

"I told you I couldn't do it," he said. "Guess I was right."

It was growing colder. The seasons were turning and what time was left was slipping away. He closed his eyes.

"I don't know what to do," he said. "Everything is falling apart. Can you see that, wherever you are?"

Opening his eyes, it was still just a hunk of stone. His throat tightened.

"I'm supposed to be you, but I'm not. I never was. But you pushed me, and kept pushing, and told me how to live when I told you I hated it, but you never listened. And now I need to be you and I can't! And you aren't here to tell me how!" He got to his feet. "So what the hell am I supposed to do?!"

His voice carried over the cemetery, startling a flock of birds. They scattered from the bare limbs of a tree and leaving a single one behind. Theodore stared out at the city in the distance, knowing he was being stupid. He came here wanting something he couldn't have. Something that was already gone. All that was left now was a useless son that would rather be filing reports and shelving books.

The incense dwindled down to a glowing stub. There was another part of the ritual to finish. Theodore picked up the offering bowl and found the ice cream had melted into a sick pink slurry. To carry his father with him, he had to eat the offering. He lifted a dripping spoon to his lips. It was sweet and miserable, but not as awful as he thought.

"I should've listened to you," he said, wiping his mouth. "But that doesn't mean I think what you did was right. You should've listened too. ...We're both stubborn like that." A shiver ran through him. "But, I think I get it now. Why it was so important to you."

Evening crept across the graveyard. Theodore took the incense burner and stored it in his bag with the bowl and spoon. The last bird flew from the tree and landed at his side.

"I told you to wait at the inn," Theodore said.

Oboe changed shape. "You were so upset when you left," She shuffled her legs, looking away. "I didn't want to just leave you."

"It doesn't matter," he said. "Nothing matters. I failed."

"That's not true." There was fight in her eyes. "You can take the test again in three days."

"We could be at war in three days," Theodore said.

Pain flashed across her face. Something was churning inside her, something she beat back until her hands curled into fists and she looked at him again, resolute.

"Then I'm going to the Circle."

He stared at her a moment, knowing how hard this was for her.

"Oboe, I can't ask you to go back there by yourself," he said. "Not after what they did to you."

She shook her head. "No. I'm being selfish. You're trying so hard and doing everything you can. I should too. You should train to fight Conrad again. I'll go to the Circle and I'll make them stop until you're Ranger Deputy again. I know you can fix it."

Theodore looked at his friend and felt a new flicker of hope. Gratitude welled up, filling the empty holes inside him.

"...Thank you." He hugged her, and she pressed tight against him.


	13. Episode 7 Chapter 13

The wind made a low rumble as it blew over the Inner Circle. It was a growl, like a cornered animal, angry and threatened. Oboe moved through the empty gardens and with great effort forced herself through the doors of the palace and up the stairs to where the council met.

A thread of conversation was cut short. The Titled, seated around their fancy table dressed in their gold-trimmed mantles, met Oboe with cold stares. A heavy silence hung over her arrival. The unicorn was the first to speak.

"Ah, Queenslayer," Beira Stormbreak said. "You return. I did not expect to see that. Have your masters decided to let you roam free for today?"

Oboe did not respond. She dragged a chair across the solarium and forced a place for herself at the council table. Her neighbors scooted away, but she did not care. There was only one reason she had come.

"The humans are our friends," she said, planting a palm on the table. "I don't care who becomes Fair Lady, but they’ve got to understand that. It doesn't matter how bad it gets. We can't fight with our friends."

High Lady Willow, tall and slender as a young oak tree, rolled her eyes as hard as she could.

"You were right, Countess. We did not lose much when she left."

"No." Gardener Feather spoke up. "There is wisdom in what this young one is telling us. If the possibility of harmony exists, it is our responsibility to find it."

"Oh, here we go again!" General Warsong threw her long neck back. "How long must we tolerate this whining for peace while an army sits on our land!?" She snapped her beak at the priestess. "We are already at war whether you believe it or not!"

"A war we cannot win!" High Lady Willow said. "They outnumber us. Their technology can destroy us. If we fight we die!"

Oboe knew a war was the last thing the humans wanted. "That's not wh-"

"Coward!" Beira shouted before Oboe could finish. "Do you think so little of our people!? Let their armies come! The fey will show them what we are capable of!"

"They don't want to fight!" Oboe said, louder this time. "They're scared! Just like us! If we work together, we can show them we're not a threat!"

Beira flicked her curled mane. "Is that what they sent you to say?"

"Nobody sent me!" Oboe said. "I speak for myself!"

"Is that so?" Beira glanced around, as if to see if everyone else found a joke as funny as she did. "A nameless, stripped of everything, who was given voice and standing by the humans, and who slaughtered our queen with the aid of the Ranger Deputy." She narrowed her eyes. "Now you come and tell us to accept tyranny, and we are to believe the humans have hold no sway over you."

Oboe felt her blood boil. "They don't!" The council murmured all around, and she stopped herself from listening. "I don't care what you think about me! If we can stop a war, we should!"

"Of course YOU would say that." The gnome baroness, with the white quills and big flowery hat, laughed. "How else would you have your revenge? Well. I won't be tricked!"

The Hive Mother shifted, as if waking, and a deep guttural growl erupted from her throat. "The motivations of the Queenslayer do not matter. It is in our interest to end this without a battle."

"Whose interest, Hive Mother?" Beira said, like a needle tip. "Yours? Are the profits you earn trading with humans worth more than our future?"

Three other Titled shouted something else at once. Oboe tried to find another chance to speak, to tell the Highest what she felt and how she knew peace could work, but every word was stepped on.

It went on like this. No one listened to anyone else, and if they did it was only to pick apart what someone else had said. The same arguments were made over and over again, round and round, and nothing was done. It made Oboe want to pull her hair out. If the Titled had ever accomplished anything before, it was because grandmother was there to settle their feuds. Now she was gone.

"I'm sick of this!" Oboe said, knocking over the train of argument. "You're supposed to pick a new Fair Lady, but none of you can agree on anything!"

"I agree with the Queenslayer," Beira said, which startled Oboe. "It's plain to see we will never reach a consensus. Thus, I will say it once again. We must hold a Tournament of Titles! That is the only way we will decide who will be queen. There is no other choice."

"There is always a choice!" Gardner Feather said. "The Tournament is cruel, and it will only give us cruel leaders. Our people need more than that!"

General Warsong scraped her claws along the table. "What our people NEED is STRENGTH! The folds in space that protected us are gone. We need someone who will make us safe."

Oboe remembered the Tournament from when she was a child. It was a way for an untitled to risk everything for a chance to wield power. Most who fought were killed, but that didn't matter. Oboe was sick of listening to the Titled squabble. She didn't know how to talk, but she knew she could fight. She squeezed a fist and hammered it against the table.

"We should have the tournament!" Becoming Fair Lady was the last thing Oboe wanted, but at least then she could do something. "I want to fight! I'll fight you right now!"

The spriggan stirred, alerted by Oboe's words. A harsh quiet fell, which made it impossible not to hear the gentle clatter of weapons. The council did not take well to the idea of fighting the Queenslayer.

"Dear child." Feather broke the silence with a soft voice found nowhere else in the room. "We should not resort to solving our problems with violence. This ordeal is an opportunity for our people to change."

"It is, Gardner, but not in the way you think." Beira moved toward the window, her eyes narrowed. "Look outside. Our children lie awake at night while men stalk our streets with iron in their hands. You ask us to tolerate this. You would make us no better than the ghasts."

"What're you talking about?" Oboe said, squinting her brow. "What's wrong with the ghasts?"

"They do all they can to please the humans." Beira turned. "And their reward for this groveling? They are spat on. Wrongly accused. Made to live underground and out of sight. The humans have tamed them, ripped out their teeth, and the ghasts deserve all of it because they allowed it to happen!"

"That's not fair!" Oboe said, growing angrier. "You make it sound like they should turn wicked!"

"You are right." Beira trotted around the table. "I am being unfair. Let me offer some praise for the ghasts. There are some who still fight for, and remember, their pride: The Red Caps."

The Titled murmured, scandalized, but did nothing. Oboe stared, wondering how it was that none of them felt the need to argue when the countess praised murderous outlaws.

"Countess." Feather stood up. Her hood fell back to reveal her long and woven hair. "The creatures of the Whirlwood have long had difficulties with the humans, but so have they with us. The violence of the Red Caps has only spread fear and mistrust. It is not an answer. If there is to be a brighter future, we cannot resort to the Tournament of Titles. We must rise above our own wrath, and instead come together as one kingdom again."

Oboe wished it were that simple. She thought of the witch Flip, of the Duke Ambergrail, and the angry eyes of the guards at the city gates. Even Theo, kind and wonderful Theo, needed to learn about creatures before he came to care about them. Oboe wanted more than anything for everyone to be friends, but she knew better than anyone that making friends was hard. She looked at the stony faces of the council members and knew they would never do the work. The flicker of hatred in her heart grew bright and hot.

"Enough!" High Lady Willow said. "We will settle the matter with a vote. Those in favor of a Tournament of Titles call out!"

Oboe wanted the tournament. She knew it was dangerous. It didn't matter if the fairy that won was smart, or kind, or wise. The worst at the table had the best chance at winning, and that would all but guarantee a war. But wasn't it the same the other way around? Wasn't a little blood better than a lot? It would be so much easier to fight Beira, to pound her face in, and get rid of her and the others that way.

Voices rang out around her. Oboe almost joined them, but her eyes fell on Feather and her throat seized up. She felt ashamed for wanting to fight. Stifling her anger, pushing it down, she held her peace. Nearly half the room shouted in favor, but that wasn't enough to pass. Like every vote that came before, this one came to nothing.

Beira surveyed the failure and turned a glare toward Oboe. "Another disappointment." She let out an angry snort. "I thought for a moment something might happen, but no. Instead we are again made weak by a simpering call for peace. Why?"

"Because it is the only way forward." Feather held herself with dignity. "A thousand years ago, the Devil King tore this country apart seeking revenge against the humans. He cursed the Farbend, slaughtered countless creatures, and the blood flowed and flowed until the ghasts in his service allied with us and the humans to bring an end to the violence. This realm was built upon that alliance, and we must do everything we can to uphold its spirit."

"And where has that alliance led us?!" Beira said. "If the Devil King had succeeded, those humans outside would be chattel, and fairies and ghasts would live free! We were fools to trust the humans. The time has come for a new Devil King to rise!"

The room was speechless. It was hard to process what had been said. The Countess called for a repeat of Laien's greatest tragedy, and everyone was too dumbstruck to do anything.

Feather braced herself against the table. It took her a moment to speak, but when she did the kindness had left her voice. "There is only blood and tears if the fey go down this road with you."

"Yes," Beira said. "But they will not belong to the fairies."

It was too much. Oboe ran, stomping, the anger inside her bubbling over. The spriggan woke and readied their weapons as she marched straight up to the Countess, wanting to kill her.

"What is WRONG with you?!" Oboe said. "Humans are creatures too! Same as us!"

Beira studied Oboe's face with insufferable satisfaction. Oboe clenched her bandaged hands into fists.

"Whatever is the matter, Queenslayer?" She was laughing. "Have I touched a nerve? Are you scared of what will happen to your masters if I have my way? You should be."

Oboe spun to look at the council. "Are you listening to this?! She's a Red Cap! Aren't you all going to do something?!"

The council spent a moment shuffling, glancing at one another without saying a word. Finally, Countess Thornberry cleared her throat.

"We are all familiar with Stormbreak's... sympathies," she said. "Even if this talk of the Devil King is shocking."

"It would be improper of us to dismiss a member of the Highest because of an opinion," said High Lady Willow. "She may remain so long as she keeps her peace."

"If we are to survive this," The Hive Mother rumbled, "we must consider even the ugliest of solutions."

Oboe trembled. She needed to calm down but couldn't. The council was useless. They couldn't even agree to pull up a dangerous weed like Beira. It didn't matter if some were good like Feather. The Circle was rotten.

"You're getting so worked up!" Beira said, mocking. "We are civilized here, nameless. I'd ask you to understand, but I think there isn't much room in your head now that the Deputy has trained you so well. What a good pet. I wonder what you will do when he's killed? Will you remember how to think for yourself? No, I think not. Without him, you are just a nameless."

Oboe jumped at the countess. Before she could stop herself, she was pounding at her face and neck with balled fists, pouring out the anger and hate and brokenness she felt inside until she was pulled off of the unicorn by the spriggan. They piled onto Oboe, and when she came to her senses there were spears and daggers prodding her from every direction. The Titled retreated, frightened by what she had done.

"The Queenslayer has broken her peace." Beira face was bruised, and yet she sounded so smug. "She is unfit to speak. I motion that she be thrown out."

Voices rang out. The motion passed.

"No!" Oboe shouted. She shifted between several different forms, bursting her bandages, wrestling to get free. It was no use. She was pulled her from the solarium, and the doors slammed shut.


	14. Episode 7 Chapter 14

A line of spriggan stood guard at the palace gate, barring Oboe's way with blades and claws. She lingered, staring up at Grandmother's fortress with its walls of mirrors and maze of halls. A fantasy played out in her mind of flying up to the solarium and bursting through the window to beat sense into the Titled. They were all so stupid, listening to the wicked things Beira said but doing nothing. She hated them. She hated the Circle and everyone in it.

Trampling through the gardens, she kicked an arbor archway entwined with ivy blooms and sent it crashing to the ground. The delicate, beautiful woodwork shattered to splinters. The blossoms were dashed, now just a spray of petals left to wilt.

Oboe scowled at what she'd done. Even if she fought her way back into the palace, what then? She could punch every single Titled in their big dumb face, but would that fix anything? As angry as she was, she was angriest at herself. Theo was counting on her, but she blew it. She trod on the petals and wiped her eyes as she looked for somewhere to sulk.

Water lapped at the stony shore of the island. Oboe sat, and watched the lake wash back and forth over the rocks. There was a long walk back to the inn at the trade road, and Oboe was dreading it. What was she supposed to tell Theo?

She wasn't alone. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted someone. Feather, in her white hood, padded across the muddy bank and found Oboe.

"May I sit?" She said.

"Do what you want," Oboe said. "Shouldn't you be at the council?"

Feather sagged onto the rock beside her with a quiet grunt. Water rinsed over her bare feet. She looked tired. The endless arguing must have taken a toll on her.

"We adjourned not long after you were removed," she said. "Beira grew loud after that success. It scared the others, so they agreed to leave the matter for another day." She wrung her hands. "If there is any good news in this, it is that the Highest are not yet ready to give in to such hate."

"Don't worry," Oboe said. "They will." 

She got up. Grabbing a big and heavy stone, she hurled it as far as she could throw it into the lake. The splash sent water pattering in all directions until the lake was still again, and Oboe turned to look at Feather.

"They're all wicked," she said. "I hope the humans show them what they deserve."

Feather watched her a moment before standing. She pried a small, flat stone out from the dirt with her fingers. She skipped it across the lake, and it nearly reached the far shore before sinking below the surface.

"I don't believe that," the Gardner said. "I don't think you do either. You're upset, and with good reason. These are dire times. Now, more than ever, we need to hold out hope that the Mother has a purpose for all of this."

Oboe scrunched her brow. If the Mother of Magic had meant for there to be a purpose for all of this, if she had meant for things to happen this way, then out of everyone She was the cruelest of all. Maybe that was the truth behind all of this. Oboe had never been allowed in the sanctuary and had never learned to pray. Growing up out in the Whirlwood, there was only one thing she had ever asked from the Mother. Crying herself to sleep each night, she begged for friends that never came.

Except one did come. In spite of everything that happened, Theo was waiting for her at the inn. He was the brightest ray of light in her short, dark life.

"I'm leaving," Oboe said. She was done. Oboe shaped herself into a blue bird and, before Feather could say anything else, flew to see him again.


	15. Episode 7 Chapter 15

The last ounce of bravery drained out of Oboe the moment she saw the inn. It sat on the Northern trade road, an old stonework mansion just outside the valley. It sighed warm, sweet wood smoke into a sunset sky, and bustled with the faint noise of weary travelers. Theo would be waiting for her inside, and that scared her. How was she supposed to explain to him what had happened and what she wanted? What was he going to think?

She marched up to the door. If she couldn't tell Theo, she couldn't tell anyone. She stepped into the glow of the tavern floor of the inn. Human merchants from across the continent supped on stew, laughed and talked. The conversation tapered to a tense whisper when they noticed a fairy enter. The minstrel, dressed in motely, missed a few notes on her violin. Oboe didn't care. She brushed past them and up the stairs. There was only one human that mattered.

"Theo?" She knocked at the door to his room, but there was no answer. The door was unlocked. Inside the room was empty, but there was a table set for two. Peeking under the covered dishes, she found a still-hot zucchini and pepper quiche paired with a salad of carrots, spinach, red onions, turnip strings and thin sliced apple drizzled in vinaigrette. The little toy knight sat in the middle like a centerpiece.

"Oboe?"

She looked up. Theo had come in while she was gawking at the food. He was wearing a stained and borrowed apron over his padded training armor, and held a steaming casserole dish with too-big oven mitts.

"You're back early." He blushed like she'd caught him doing something wrong. "I was hoping to surprise you."

Oboe was surprised. "What is all of this?"

He set the casserole down. "I talked the innkeepers into letting me use their kitchen," he said. "I wanted to do something to thank you." His smile was nervous. "Going back to the council was the last thing you wanted, but you did it anyway. I thought making you a nice meal was the least I could do."

The guilt hit her all at once, like a punch to the gut. She covered the quiche dish and tried not to cry.

He took off his oven mitts. "What's wrong?"

"Everything!" She said, wiping her face with her forearm. "No. Not everything. Not this. Not you. Everything else."

Concerned, he moved closer. "Tell me." He took her hand, and noticed the bandages were missing. "Were you shape shifting again? I know I asked you to earlier, but Thistle told us you had to keep the wrappings on so your hands can heal."

She wrenched her hand away. "Don't worry about that!" She said. "Theo! I screwed up! Okay?!" The word came blurting out, but there was no stopping even if what came next scared her. "I got mad and they threw me out! I ruined it, and I can't go back, and Beira is a Red Cap and she wants all the Titled to turn on the humans and I think they'll do it and I don't know what to do!!" 

Theo was still. The words sank in. He sat down on the edge of his bed, eyes down, thinking, unknowable thoughts stewing inside him.

"We'll think of something," he said, his voice shaky. "There has to be something we can do to get through to the council."

"No," Oboe said, certain. "There isn't." Her anger sparked, and she grasped onto it needing something to keep from falling into despair. "Beira told the council she wants to be Devil King. Not Fair Lady. Devil King. They don't care, and they'll sooner listen to her than they'll listen to us! They're all wicked!"

Theo stared, helpless. "...Then what should we do?"

She stepped toward him. The idea had been brewing inside her, growing bitter and caustic with every disaster and mistake, fermenting until it became seductive, intoxicating, and so absolute that it was the only choice left in her mind.

"We should leave," Oboe said.

"What?" He did not understand.

She took a fearful breath. "There's no point in staying. ...We can't save the Circle. It's not worth saving. There's nothing there but hurt, and lies, and hate." She bared the darkness in her heart. "...I don't care what happens to them, and I don't think you should either. Grandmother tried to kill you, and the Titled didn't lift a finger. And the humans aren't much better! After everything you did for the Whirlwood, the humans took away your title! They make you sneak around to do the right thing! They hate fairies and fairies hate them! It's all poison and I'm sick of it!!"

He stood up. She locked eyes with him and tightened her fingers around the front of his shirt and apron.

"We don't have to put up with this," she said. Peering into his bright green eyes, Oboe felt like she never wanted anything more in her life. "We should go somewhere, anywhere else. I don't care. As long as it's far away and I'm with you, I don't think I need anything else." Her eyes darted, imagination running wild, her fingers tightened. "We can start a new life and live however we want. We can find a university for you to study at! I'll help you!"

His worried expression did not fade the way she hoped. "Oboe," he started, and the answer she knew was coming came. "I can't. I can't just run away. Not again." He shook his head. "There's a lot of innocent creatures in the Circle and in the Valley. If there's even the slightest chance I can do something, if I can stop a war or at least make things better, I have a responsibility to try!"

Oboe shut her eyes, stifling a pained laugh. Why had she even asked? Theo was too good to do anything less than everything. She opened her eyes again. He was perfect, and none of them deserved him. Not the Circle, not the Whirlwood, not Laien, and not her. That didn't change the fact she needed him.

Her lips found his. It felt like a blinding light had erupted out of the dark, warm and overwhelming. A shiver ran through her. She kissed him, feeling a depth of wholeness she never knew. And then it was over. They parted, and Oboe was left in the cold reality she started from. In horror, she realized what she had done.

Theo's lips moved without speaking. He was stunned. Oboe felt his heart pounding through his padded shirt. Was he frightened, or was he feeling something else? She let go of him.

"Theo," she said, knowing there was no going back. "I want to be with you, but I can't stay here. Please."

"I... can't." His face was an unreadable mix of emotion. "Oboe, I can't leave. I'm sorry."

The tears ran free. She knew from the start this is how it would go, and she let it happen anyway. Turning, she rushed and fumbled with the door to escape.

"Oboe?" He said. "Oboe don't go! Wait!"

She couldn't bear it. She charged down the stairs and ran shoving her way through the tavern and frightening the humans. Sprinting into the evening air, she got away before Theo could follow.


	16. Episode 7 Chapter 16

She was gone. Theodore searched for her until it grew too dark to continue. He returned to the inn to lie awake with worry until the first hint of dawn. Breakfast was a stale slice of quiche and a pint of coffee to fortify himself.

Her tree was empty, and there was no one at Thistle’s cave. He scoured the valley trails and asked every creature whether they’d seen Oboe. None of the birds, rabbits, bears, or even any of the skeletons had any idea where she was.

"What's the situation in the Circle?" A pooka asked him. Her golden, anxious eyes were bright against her pitch-black fur. "Why are you looking for that faun instead of working on that?"

"I am working on it!" Theodore said, trying not to shout. "Please, just tell me, have you seen her?"

"I haven't.” Her long pointy ears drooped. "Sorry. I know you're taking care of the Circle, but I'm just worried. My family lives there and..." Her gaze wavered. The worst was flashing before her eyes. "...I'll keep a look out for Oboe, okay? Let me know if there's anything else I can do to help."

"Thank you," Theodore said. He pushed on, feeling heavier. He knew he needed to be training. Tomorrow morning was his last chance to take the test, to become Ranger Deputy again and do something before Conrad dragged him into the Court where he would be useless.

He couldn't focus. It was worse than when Oboe turned herself into the Circle. It was like she'd taken his mind with her. Dread and worry haunted him, but there was something else as well. The kiss. It lingered in his thoughts.

Theodore had never thought about Oboe in those terms, but then, he had never thought of anyone in those terms. His life was filled with books and work and there was never any time for others until she came into his life. She filled the parts of him he didn't know were empty and now that she was gone, now that he had told her no, he truly felt the void she left. It was the same feeling he had when she faced execution, but now it was deeper. It had taken root in him. There wasn’t room for anything else.

Oboe wasn't in danger this time, she was leaving of her own free will, and Theodore knew he could not go with her. Nothing had changed. He still had a duty to perform. What would he even say if he found her? No. It didn’t matter what he said. He was just terrified he might never see her again.

Something lunged out from the brush, a creature striding on long gray legs and parting the branches of trees with spidery fingers. Theodore was so startled he almost lost his balance. He was so distracted that he didn’t notice the entity until it was almost on top of him. It loomed over him, gaunt, staring with a dark crevasse where eyes should've been.

"You found him!" A magpie said, swooping to perch in a nearby tree.

"Yes, Pip." The Tall Man rubbed his featureless face, sounding exasperated. "I explained this to you twice already. The ring he wears binds us. I needed only think of him to sense his location."

"Wowie!" Pip said. Then added, after a moment to think: "Wow!"

A troll lolloped out of the brush, heaving herself across the clearing to land beside the Tall Man like a boulder. A gnome clambered over her broad shoulders.

"You did it!" The gnome said. Theodore recognized him. It was Lemmy Molehill, the former Redcap he had 'rescued' from Silas Jack. The troll was Dina Bonecrunch, another reformed member of the defunct gang. "We shoulda asked you to help in the first place!"

"What's going on?" Theodore was bewildered to be surrounded by so many familiar faces. "Why are all of you looking for me?"

"There's trouble," Dina said. "We need the help of the Ranger Deputy."

Theodore knew he didn't have time for this. He was fully booked for disasters. "I'm not the Ranger Deputy anymore," he said. "They fired me."

"We are aware of that," the Tall Man said. "Regardless, the fact remains that you are needed."

"Yeah! That's right!!" Pip said. "It's... what'cha call it. One of those emergency things."

Lemmy hopped off Dina's back and scampered up to Theodore, huffing. "Deputy, sir! The other humans aren't listening to us! They won't take anything we say seriously. But I know you're one of the good ones. You'll help, I know you will!"

Oboe was getting farther away and the world was crumbling around him. Theodore wished he could just let it fall apart. "Tell me what's happened."

"A unicorn has been going around, talking to old Red Caps," Dina said. "She tried to recruit us."

Theodore did not need to guess who she meant. "Beira Stormbreak."

"Yeah!!" Pip said. "Did you know? She's trying to get a whole army together!"

"They're going to attack North Manor today," Lemmy said, sucking air through his teeth. "Most of the old Silas Jack gang said no. Not as many people are angry like they used to be, thanks to you, but some said yes."

"It doesn't matter how many said yes!" Dina said. "That pointy horse is trying to send a message, but all it's going to do is piss off the humans!"

"Theodore." The Tall Man's calm made every word sound even more grave. "Relations are volatile between humans and fairies, now more than ever. An attack like this could easily spark a war. After what small progress we have achieved, I cannot bear to see my country torn apart. Something must be done."

This was bad. An attack on the North Manor farming village would mean civilians would be hurt or killed. Silas Jack had organized attacks on humans, but only ever targeted knights. Slaughtering villagers would only inflame anti-creature sentiment, and provoke the capital to bring the full force of its knight orders down on the Fairy Circle.

"Maybe they'll listen to me," Theodore said, hoping that was the case. He looked off. North manor, and the capital, were miles away. "I need to get there as soon as possible."

"I can assist with that," the Tall Man said. "I have a shadow link nearby that will take us to the city. Come."

The bogeyman led the group off the trail. They found a copse of trees with their limbs so thick and tangled they cast a dark pool of shade over ground. The ghast reached out and took hold of the gloom, pulling it aside as if it were a curtain, and revealed an inky swirl of smoke and stars beyond.

"Let us make haste."

Theodore stepped up to the threshold of the magic portal, but paused. He could not ignore this situation, but he had not forgotten why he was out scouring the Whirlwood.

"Pip," he said. "I need you to find Oboe."

The magpie threw his wings wide. "You got it, boss! You want me to tell her what's going on?"

Theodore needed her. There was a chance he couldn't do this without her but, after what had happened, after everything she had suffered, he knew it wasn't fair to drag her back into this.

"I want you tell her I'm sorry that I couldn't go with her," he said. There was something else. Something he now knew to be true and should have said to her face. "...Tell her I love her."

Theodore stepped inside the shadow link. As soon as the Tall Man entered after him, the entrance shrank away and both were swallowed.


	17. Epiosde 7 Chapter 17

Thistle waddled through the junkyard. It was early morning, and there was no wind. Just a stifling quiet and the sharp scent of rust. Thistle looked around at the heaps of human garbage, all tucked away in the dusty foothills of the Upside mountains where it was out of sight. He glowered. You'd think he hated it here, but Oboe knew better. His good antennae twitched, and he scurried after something.

There was a coat hanger poking out from under a big pile of broken bicycles. He grabbed it and pulled, kicking his spindly legs trying to pull it free. It was stuck.

"Oboe!" He yelled. "Give me a hand!"

Oboe moped, sitting on top of a big mound of busted old wagon wheels. Getting up felt like the most difficult thing in the world.

"You want to help or not?!" Thistle said. "Get over here, kid!"

She slid down, curling into a slump at the bottom. Shoving herself onto her hooves, she slouched over to him. She pulled the coat Hanger out with a yank and the whole pile of bicycles came crashing down where they made a huge mess. Oboe didn't think there was anything she could do to ruin the junkyard, but she was wrong.

"Perfect," Thistle said. He snatched the coat hanger away and toddled up to his cart where he tucked it into his collection of other treasures.

This was something the old sylph did long before Oboe first met him. He would come out to the outskirts of the capital to pick through the things the humans threw away. He found things he liked, made them useful with magic, and then tried his best to sell them. It was his favorite thing. And, sometimes, when Oboe was upset, or bored, or very, very lonely, he would take her with him.

It stank here. Like rust, and mud, and rotten fruit. It wasn't a bad smell. It made her feel nostalgic.

"Not that it's any of my business," Thistle said as he clambered up onto a mound of scrap metal. "But haven't you got more important things to do right now?"

"No." After what had happened, Oboe felt like this was where she belonged. "I'd just make things worse."

Thistle starting digging through the mess. "Huh." He said. "Doubt that. Can't break what's already broke. I'd rather have you mucking things up than any of those overgrown weeds on the council. At least you care if someone gets hurt."

Oboe wasn't sure she did anymore. "It doesn't matter," she said. "They kicked me out. I went, and I tried, but the Titled are awful and I hate them, and thinking about it hurts so much, and nothing I can do will ever change any of it!!"

"Been saying that for years," Thistle said. "Can't say I like hearing it coming out of you. What're you going to do now, then?"

"I'm not going to do anything!" Oboe said, sick of it being her problem. "They can fall apart for all I care! I'm done. I'm leaving Laien."

"I see." Thistle said. He let the moment hang. "So why are you still here?"

Oboe didn't have an answer. "I just... I wanted to see you. I wanted to say goodbye."

Thistle seemed to think about this, stuck out his lower lip, and shook his head. "Nope. I don't buy it. You know better than to stick around for an old roach like me. How many times have I told you to leave? To go find someplace better than this dump? You never listen. Why start now?"

"I'm serious!" Oboe said, annoyed.

Thistle went back to digging. "The only reason you ever come out here with me is so you can talk to someone. If you're really done, which you aren't, good. Great. Go! May the Mother's mercy follow you. But we both know there's something else. So, start talking already."

She let her mouth hang open. He was right. More than anything she needed to talk, but when she tried the words felt dry and stick.

"I think..." she said, with great effort. "I think I crossed a line with Theo. ...Now I don't know what to do."

"Oh yeah?" He said. "You gonna tell me about it, or are you just going to keep dragging your hooves?"

She pinched her fingers. She needed to let it out, but she was terrified of what Thistle would think of her.

"I... kissed him."

Thistle stopped digging. "You WHAT?" He spun toward her. "Kissed him? That face nuzzling tongue thing you fuzzy fairies do with creatures you want to mate with??"

"...Y-yeah." Oboe felt hot all of a sudden.

"With HIM?" He squinted at her in disbelief. "Isn't he kind of a grumpy asshole?"

"He's not!" Oboe said. "He's nice, and good, and he came to find me at the Circle! He forgave me when I was stupid and listened to my grandmother. He doesn't care that I'm nameless, and he believes in me!"

"Okay." Thistle rolled his eyes. "But he's a human. That's gross. Gross and weird."

"I know that!" Oboe said, pulling at her mane. "He doesn't have any horns. There's only hair on his head, and they all smell funny! It's weird and wrong and every time I look at him I feel warm and good and I want to be with him!"

Thistle went back to digging. "Suppose beggars can't be choosers. A human, huh. I always hoped there'd be a miracle, and some foreign buck would whisk you away before learning the details. Just proves the Mother's a real prankster." He looked up after a moment, mortified. "...HIM?"

"It doesn't matter," Oboe said. "Nothing matters. I asked him to leave with me. ...He said no." Her stomach twisted in knots remembering it. "He wants to stay and fight and save everyone, and I don't. I can't! I'm not good like him. And now he knows that."

"Hold on a second."

Thistle stuck his arm deep into the scrap pile and rooted around. He pulled out a small golden ring, which glinted in the sun. Nodding, he chucked it across the junkyard and it landed in his wagon with a sharp ping. He fluttered down from the pile, brushing his hands off.

"You remember that time you wanted to go to Red Spire?"

"What?" Oboe was bewildered. Annoyed. "What are you talking about? No!"

"It was like a year after they took your name," Thistle said. "First year was hardest. Or maybe it was just when you threw the most fits. I don't know. Anyway, I told you we should find you a new Circle to call home, and you got it in your head that the Circle in Red Spire was the one for you."

"I should've gone," Oboe said, bitter. "Why didn't I?"

Thistle shrugged. "We packed bags full of everything you'd need. Right when we were about to go, you changed your mind. Told me this was your home. If there was a chance things would change, and I told you there wasn't, you wanted to stay."

"I was stupid," Oboe said.

Thistle glared. "No. Shut up. Just shut up and listen to me."

Oboe stopped talking. She waited for Thistle to say something else, but he didn't. He stood there, flexing his twiggy fingers, his mouth opening and closing like he was always half way to starting.

"That was important. ...Important to me, anyway." He stopped looking at her. "You were just this kid. The Circle shat on you. Maybe it would've been kinder if they killed you, but they didn't. They did their worst, but that didn't matter. You had hope things would get better. ...That's not something you learned from me, and you sure as hell didn't learn it from them."

Oboe listened. Thistle struggled to get the rest out.

"...No matter how bad it got, you always had that... hope. That... Seeing that broke me." He cleared his throat, and focused. "It CHANGED me. Got me to try talking to the Mother again. It was like, no matter what the world was like, I could just look at little Oboe and I'd see hope. It was just inside you, it was PART of you. And... that always kept me going."

Whatever hope Thistle had seen inside Oboe had dried up. It was dead. Killed by the Circle. She looked at the old bug, feeling like this conversation was another mistake.

"I was a kid and I didn't know any better," she said. "Now I do."

Thistle didn't say anything.

"Thank you for being there for me," Oboe said. "I hope we meet again someday." She turned to leave.

"Hold on!" Thistle said. "Get back here! You aren't going anywhere!"

Oboe marched away. "Watch me."


	18. Episode 7 Chapter 18

Passing through the shadow link was like walking through a split ore of amethyst. Jagged shapes of lavender glimmered around them, lighting Theodore's way inside a sea of black. Wisps of vapor churned around them, drifting along forking paths.

"We will arrive in the capital shortly," the Tall Man said. "Do you have a plan?"

Theodore nodded. "If I can get the city Watch to evacuate North Manor, the villagers will be safe. Then I can find Beira and talk her out of this attack."

"I see." The Tall Man leered at him in silence as they walked. "While it is good you have become more... diplomatic since you dealt with me, I fear that talking will not be enough. You need to kill her."

"No," Theodore said. His breathing quickened. "Are you insane? There must be a better solution than that!"

"The countess is beyond listening to anyone now," the ghast said. "Others have tried, but she has only grown more resolute in her madness. She is prepared to sacrifice everything for the independence of fairies."

They came to a stop in front of long oval of tinted black glass. On the other side, Theodore could make out a city street busy with the traffic of silhouettes.

"This is our fault," Theodore said. "If the human government would just treat creatures with respect, things like this wouldn't happen."

"I will not argue with that," the Tall Man said. "The cruelties of kings, and dukes, and knights are all poison in the hearts of the Whirlwood creatures. ...And to be honest, I still have not forgiven you for what you did to me."

His mouth dry, Theodore squeezed the ring on his finger.

"However," The Tall Man went on. "Our ancestors made a promise to one another. My people turned against their king and turned toward yours, because they dreamed of a world where all the Mother's children might live in peace. It is a dream now worn and frayed, ready to tear, but it is still a dream I wish to believe in."

"We swore to protect and aid you." The First Treaty ran through Theodore's mind. "We haven't. We've ignored you, or worse." He realized he was shaking. "I don't want to be like those other knights. I don't want to hurt anyone. I just want to make things better."

The bogeyman wrapped his slender fingers around Theodore's shoulder. "Good," he said. "Then protect us from Beira. Be our voice and rally your people to stop her. She cannot be allowed to throw everything away in anger."

"But why does she have to die?!" Theodore said.

"I fear the time to talk has passed. Her mind is set and she will not rest until there is war. Do not forget why we need knights at all. There are times when we must protect the things we care about, and there are times that calls for violence. If you cannot do this, if you cannot slay the Countess and stay the wrathful hand of your people, then she will be proven right: The dream is dead." His grip tightened. "Kill her and prove her wrong."

Theodore watched Oboe stab Bassoon again in the theater of his mind, and how he wasn't strong enough to be the one to do it. "I don't think I can."

"I saw your eyes when you chased me with that knife." The Tall Man let go of him. "I can sense the fear you have of opening yourself to the monster inside you. I know you are fierce enough to do what needs to be done. Do not be afraid." He reached out and pulled back the curtain of glass to create a door to the city. "Your mercy is still a part of you, just the same. Right now, Beira needs to be stopped, and that means I need you to be the bigger monster."


	19. Episode 7 Chapter 19

The bank teller put a thick envelope of thaler bills down on the counter. Oboe checked that it was money, all the wages she'd earned, then crammed it into her drawstring bag.

Flying away wasn't enough. The kingdom was large and stretched in all directions, except one. Sea gulls shrieked overhead and a salty breeze blew across the docks and ruffled her fur.

"We don't take fairy passengers." The ship captain was round, unshaven, and ragged. He smelled like tar and old fish. "You're bad luck."

Oboe opened her purse and made him change his mind. The sailors brought out a bench for her to rest on while the boat was made ready, and men begged to carry luggage she didn't have.

It was a big wooden ship, old and battered, with an angry engine that could chop through the ocean with propeller blades when there wasn't wind for the sails. They called her the Grand Mule. Once she was loaded with barrels of magic and goods to trade, she would take Oboe to Red Spire. There, she could start a new life and forget the one she left behind.

"Oboe?"

The hair on her back bristled. She turned her stiff neck and saw her brother Fife, with his thin scruffy beard and curled horns.

"...What are you doing?" He said.

Oboe felt as if the sailors had chained the ship's anchor to her back. There was a betrayed, scared look in her brother's eyes.

"I'm leaving," she said, trying to sound strong. "What are you doing here? How did you find me?"

"Thistle told me," he said. "He was looking for Theo but found me instead." He glanced up at the Grand Mule and back to her. "It's true then? You can't. We need you!"

Oboe felt angry and grateful and tired beyond words. Everything needed to stop, but nothing could be that easy, could it? "I don't care. I can't take it anymore. I don't care what happens, I'm DONE."

Fife bent down and took her hand. "Sister," he said. "I just got you back in my life, and I won't lose you. Not again. Let's go back to the Circle and talk about this."

Oboe yanked her hand out of his grasp. "I am not going back there! I hope the humans burn it to the ground!"

Fife winced at those words. "Oboe, please. That's my home you're talking about."

"Not anymore." She glared, feeling cruel. "They kicked you out, just like they kicked me out. Maybe they'll take your name too, and then you'll know what it's like!"

He tensed, no longer able to look her in the eye. Standing, his arms fell to his sides. "I heard about what happened at the council. ...I know you've been through more than I can imagine, but please don't give up on the Circle."

"Every bad thing that's ever happened to me is because of the Circle," she said. "I used to blame myself, but that was just another trick. The Circle is rotten. It deserves whatever happens to it."

"There is a lot wrong with us," Fife said. "I know. I worked in the palace and... I let a lot of things happen that I know I shouldn't have." His face scrunched, pained. "But not everything in the Circle is broken. There are a lot of good creatures that live there, ones that don't deserve to suffer because of the Titled. Do you think little Oboe, your niece, my daughter, deserves to get hurt because of where she was born?"

Oboe couldn't say anything.

"When you came back, you opened my eyes," he said. "You made me realize what I was tolerating. That's why we need you."

"Nobody needs me," Oboe said.

"You're exactly what we need!" Fife said, eyes fierce. "You're one of us, but also aren't. We all pretend to be good and just and righteous, but you! That's just how you are! I've seen it. You talked to a useless, puffed-up clerk like me, and you convinced me to stand up to the Fair Lady! If you can do that, if you managed to wake me up, then I think you can find the goodness buried in the rest of us and do something with it!"

"There's nothing good inside the Titled," she said, but the words were weaker than before.

"Then don't talk to the Titled." He planted his hands on her shoulders. "Talk to someone, anyone else. Do something! You're right, the Circle is rotten, but you came and you changed something, and I'm begging you sis, keep helping us change things so something can get better! We need this, and I need you!"

Oboe looked into her brother's pleading eyes and felt something. She got up and looked up at the Grand Mule. It was her escape from a life of pain and heart ache. It was her chance at freedom. She imagined her life across the sea, and it tasted as bitter as her years in exile.

Oboe hugged her brother. She was being stupid, but she was lucky to have him, and Thistle, and Theo, and everyone else.

"Thank you," she said.


	20. Episode 7 Chapter 20

Scanning the tree line through binoculars, Theodore saw the creatures gathering. He counted two dozen, but there could be more. Hardly an army, but enough to do some damage. There were a few ghasts, but most were fairies. Their faces were sneering and anxious. Theodore recognized Curdie the goblin and Fern the crone among them.

Watchmen sharpened their swords and loaded crossbows around him inside the manor's upper floor. With luck, there would be no battle, but preparations were made just the same. Theodore was lent a sword and armor from the battered leftovers of whatever was at hand. A scratched iron cuirass with too-big chainmail and mismatched leather greaves and gloves. It made him look ridiculous, but it would serve.

He moved to another window to spy and caught a glimpse of Beira behind the trees. She was giving an impassioned speech. The scene was too far away to hear, but he could infer the tone. Beira stomped back and forth across the meadow, whipping her tail and throwing her head back with dramatic flourish. Whatever she was saying, it was loud.

"How is the evacuation going?" Theodore said, handing off the binoculars.

Lieutenant Fritz looked harried, like he was still thinking about a long nap he planned to have but would no longer get to take. "We've got everyone out and on the way to the city walls." He fingered the hilt of his sheathed sword. "You think they'll back off now that we're onto her plan?"

Theodore shook his head. "It doesn't look that way." There was no way Beira was oblivious to the evacuation. Perhaps a real battle was what she was after all along. "If I can't talk her down, then we'll have to fight."

"We don't have enough men for this!" Fritz said. "Why'd this have to happen when most of the Watch is tied up babysitting the Fairy Circle? It's going to take hours for the other knight orders to gear up and help us!"

"Lieutenant!" One of the scouts called, still kneeling at the window and keeping watch. "Something's happening!"

They didn't need binoculars to see it. Beira came galloping out from the forest, her followers marching after her. She climbed to the top of a hillock and pointed her horn at the village.

"What's it doing?" Fritz said.

There was a glint of light off her horn. Thick, gray clouds began to form and gather around its point. A wind picked up, growing in speed and rattling the window shutters. Theodore could not believe how fast the clouds were gathering around Beira's horn, growing so wide and long that her forces could no longer be seen. All at once, the clouds raced forward riding on howling winds. Hunks of hail the size of cannon balls crashed through the walls and windows. Lightning stabbed at the buildings, and a typhoon swirled around them. In only a few moments, the storm engulfed the whole village and blotted out the sky.

"Shit!" Fritz shouted as icy wind blasted through the window. Theodore struggled to keep his balance as frost crept along the walls and floor.

Everyone pulled back, retreating down the stairs to the first floor where the knights who weren't caught outside were arming themselves. Swords were hooked to belts, helmets strapped, and armor fastened. The storm raged, shaking the walls around them. A barrel was cracked open, filled to bursting with calcified magic shards. The mages scooped the ammunition into holsters, then each snapped the brittle stones in their hands to ready their first spells.

"I told you I want to try talking first!" Theodore said as Fritz shoved a sword into his hands. "There's a chance we don't have to fight!"

"Yeah! That worked SO WELL back at the Fount," Fritz said, sarcastic. "This is a Code Fang! A full blown wicked assault on civilian land! Either help us, or stay out of the way!"

Theodore's breath could be seen in the now freezing air. He wanted to say something to stop the fighting, but the Lieutenant was right. The attack was already underway. Beira was not going to listen.

"Alright patrol!" The lieutenant's voice cracked as he addressed the men and women under his command. His aloof tone replaced with panicked leadership. "We've only counted 26 of them! Which is... We can handle this! It's fine! Stick close to your assigned wizards! Keep your swords charged! Silver and iron! We just got to hold out until back up arrives, alright?! Show them why you don't mess with Laien!"

A cheer went up through the room. The combat mages channeled their spells and threw up translucent pink barriers around their squads. Theodore tried to keep pace as he followed his team out the door and into the raging weather. The spell protected them from the wind and ice, and let them charge out into the manor yard, boots crunching on new fallen snow, as fairies and ghasts tore through the village knocking over carts and smashing windows.

"Kill them!" Someone shouted. Theodore wasn't sure if it was a knight or a creature. Both sides collided. Claws raked along the ground and tails whipped. Gnomes danced around sword swipes, and a fury pounced on a man to tear at his face with beak and dagger. A magic crossbow bolt zipped through the air to impale the fury, pinning her to the ground screaming. Shining silver swords hacked a werewolf limb from limb, but not before he tore a woman's head from her shoulders.

After first blood, the forces pulled apart. A rain of crossbow bolts sent the creatures darting behind cover. There, they threw rocks and taunted. Someone gave chase, jumping out of their wizard's bubble, only to get grabbed from behind and as he rounded the corner.

"Stay in formation!" Fritz yelled over the wind. "Don't let them draw you out!"

Shield up, one of the soldiers moved to the center of the battlefield. The fury was there, still screaming as blood pooled on the ground. He slit her throat and there was quiet. Theodore's stomach turned. He looked out to the hillock, at Beira absorbed in concentration conjuring the storm around them. He tightened his grip on his sword. She was the reason this was happening. The Tall Man said he needed to kill her to stop this.

"We need to go after the unicorn!" Theodore said. "She's distracted with her spell!"

"I don't care!" Fritz said. The archers worked to reload their enchanted crossbows. "We're got enough trouble right here! I want everyone to turtle up until our back up gets here!"

"We have a chance to take out their leader!!"

"You're not in charge here, 'Deputy!' We're not coming after you if you want to make a suicide run!"

Growling, Theodore swung around and pushed his shoulder through the membrane of the barrier. The cold was sharp needles pricking his skin through his armor. A troll crashed out from behind a cottage and tried to grab him. Theodore jumped back and brought his long sword down on the troll's reaching arm. It chopped deep but did not sever it. The troll howled in pain as Theodore pulled the blade free and ran. Racing against the gale in his face, Theodore tried not to think of the blood racing down the troll's arm. He tried not to think about sutures or gangrene or whether he'd fractured the bone. He locked his eyes on Beira, his teeth grit, and dashed as fast as he could with hot tears streaming down his face.


	21. Episode 7 Chapter 21

Pushing through the funnel of freezing wind, Theodore kept low to the hillock and crept closer to his target. The Countess was focused, her head bowed to aim thunder bolts, gales, and the steady crawl of frost across the battlefield. In the distance, Theodore could hear knights shouting as their feet were locked in ice. Creatures shrieked and roared as they went on the assault. He tried not to look back. If he could just sneak up on the unicorn, he could end this war before it truly started.

Toe to heel. Crouching along the slope of the hill, biting his jaw shut to keep his teeth from chattering, he advanced slow and silent with his iron sword ready. Its magic charge had faded, but it could still be used to kill if he could just move to the crest of the snowcapped hill.

He needed to be the bigger monster. He remembered the thrill of hunting the Tall Man. The rush of cutting down Ella. How powerful he felt leading the knights to stop Bassoon. He prayed to the devil inside him for strength, for that wicked hunger to help him now and then never again. Standing, he raised the sword and took aim at Beira's neck.

Theodore hesitated. In his mind, he saw his father's blood covered face looking down on him in the depths of Crookhole Mine. He remembered how terrified he felt in that moment, how sick, how horrified he was that his father was a monster. His hand shook, rattling the loose blade of his sword in its hilt. The wind died. Heart stopping, Theodore swung the sword down as hard as he could.

It was too late. Beira's ears flicked. She leapt out of the way. Her spell burst into a flurry of fat, fluffy snowflakes that danced around them both.

"Well," she said, trotting just out of reach. "Here's something I had not foreseen." She pointed her horn at him.

Theodore took plow stance to protect himself. "Surrender, Beira! We have you outnumbered! Reinforcements are coming! You can't win this!"

"Good," she said.

He kept his guard up. "Your allies are going to die if you don't stand down!"

She stabbed at him, a feint he saw through. He lunged, but she was ready to dodge. The unicorn was toying with him.

"Do you think I'm stupid enough to think I could storm the doorstep of the King's city with a handful of angry misfits?" She let out haughty laugh. "This is a sacrifice for our future."

Theodore watched, looking for a window to attack. "What are you talking about?" She was too cautious. He needed to bait her.

"You met the Titled," she said. "A gaggle of old shrews too frightened and too stubborn to do anything. We have lived under your thumb for a millennium. That ends today."

He shifted to the fool stance. "There are other ways than starting a hopeless war."

"No." Her horn pulsed white. "There is no choice. I will tip the scales with blood. Your people will not bear this insult. They will march on the Circle. They will spill more blood. And then the fey will rise up. They will see what I see, and bring an end to this farce of peace."

Theodore couldn't believe what he was hearing. Beira intended from the beginning to let her soldiers die. Her whole plan was to provoke a conflict to drive the kingdom apart. Theodore was so horrified he let his guard slip.

A beam of cold fired from the tip of her horn in a scream of light. Ice bit Theodore’s skin, climbing up his legs and arm and sealing them in place before he could react. He struggled, trying to free his sword hand as Beira moved closer with a hungry smile.

"You're a monster!" Theodore shouted, fighting to move, hating himself for every mistake that led to this moment.

Beira scraped Theodore's cheek with the tip of her horn and let a trickle of blood run free. "A devil," she said. "That's the sort of hero this kingdom needs."

A roar of teeth and claws exploded in front of Theodore's face. Beira tumbled across the hilltop. A tiger rushed after her as she scrambled back onto her feet. It lunged with its claws, carving red streaks out of the unicorn’s flank. Beira shot a burst of wind from her horn with enough force to knock the tiger into the air. With a pop, the tiger transformed into a gryphon: wings spread and talons sharp.

It was her. Tearing out from nowhere, she'd found him. Theodore thought he'd lost her, that those last heart wrenched moments with her would be all he had, that after all the pain he'd put her through his friend was gone, but she was here again when he needed her most and the sight of her undid the barbed knot coiled around his heart and sent it soaring.

"STAY AWAY FROM HIM!!" Oboe screamed as she swooped, ripping at the unicorn's mane.

Beira reared back and bucked with her hind legs, knocking Oboe out of the air and crashing over the side of the hill. 

"Oboe!!" Theodore said.

She came scrambling back over the hillside, a charging black bear. Beira lunged into Oboe's attack, stabbing her in the shoulder. The horn sank deep. Oboe screamed, and Theodore saw his friend shrink back into her normal body.

"I owe you so much," Beira said, panting. Blood gushed from Oboe's wound and spattered across the unicorn's face. "It's a shame I have to kill you."

Theodore tried to move, but he could not feel his arm through the numb of the ice. Beira's horn lit up, and Oboe's howls of pain grew louder. Theodore felt his anger and fear rise like thick black clouds in the sky of his mind. His frozen sword hand tightened around the hilt of his blade, and he fought with all his strength to move. He opened himself, felt the rage crackling inside, and the ice split and buckled like chains around the throat of a rabid dog.

Beira pulled her horn loose from Oboe's shoulder and whipped her head toward Theodore. He kicked himself free and staggered toward Beira, sword raised.

Oboe grabbed at the Beira's face the moment she was distracted, punching and clawing with wild fists. The Countess pulled back to get away, but Oboe stayed right on top of her. She took hold of the unicorn, lifted her over her head, and slammed her onto the ground so hard the snow scattered.

Beira let out a hideous, snarling gasp. She thrashed, rolling onto her hooves and rising on shaking legs. "I-impressive," She said, battered and bruised, but laughing. "But it's too late."

Beira galloped away before either could get a hold of her. She raised her horn. A ball of light arched up into the sky with a whistle and burst in a flash of color and noise.

In distance, something shifted in the battle at North Manor. Theodore saw the creatures fall back, retreating as the knights gave chase.

"My work here is done," Beira said. "Goodbye."

"You aren't going anywhere," Theodore said, charging, ready to rip her apart.

Beira smiled, and then vanished. She was there one moment, and then gone.

"What?!" Oboe said.

Theodore stumbled to a halt. His eyes darted, then widened when he saw it. "Foot prints!" He shouted. A trail of hoof prints appeared in the snow, racing down the slope of the hill. They gave chase.

"Auugh!!" Oboe lurched, grabbing at her shoulder and falling to her knees.

Theodore stopped. Blood was streaking down Oboe's chest and staining her fur.

"Damn it," Oboe said. She huffed great lungfuls of breath and forced herself back on her feet.

"You're hurt!" He said.

"It doesn't matter," she said. "As long as you're okay."

It did matter. He cut the hem of his under-shirt and tossed away his sword, then used the scrap of cloth to blot her wound and stop the flow of blood. In the distance, the unicorn was escaping. He needed to go after Beira. He needed to kill her, but the murder in his heart evaporated as his friend struggled to move.

"You need medical attention."

"I'm fine! Let go of me! I'll stop her!"

"I don't understand," he said, not letting go. "What are you doing here?"

She gave him a tired smile. "Pip told me about the attack. I couldn't just leave you to deal with it by yourself."

Theodore wondered if he should be grateful Pip told her more than he asked. "Oboe, you told me you were done fighting. You shouldn't have come back."

She put her hand over his, both pushing against the blood-soaked rag. "No. I had to." She said, their eyes locked together. "I don't care anymore what I have to do. I don't care how much it hurts. If I can help then I will. This place is my home and won't let anyone tear it apart."

Theodore stared at her. Sensation came prickling back into his sword arm, itching and burning. Her words ran through his mind, and something clicked inside him.


	22. Episode 7 Chapter 22

Oboe winced at the healer's glowing touch. The pain in her shoulder was numbed to a faint reminder, and then the human stitched the hole.

"You're sure she's not wicked?" He said.

"Oboe is one of us!" Theo said, pointed. It was the third time he vouched for her. "Just help her."

The healer dressed the wound with salve and bandages. "That should do. Try not to do anything strenuous for a while, and you'll be okay."

Oboe wasn't sure she could make any promises. Thistle was already going to be mad at her for transforming. She'd popped her hand wrappings again by changing shape, and the burns on her hands still hadn't healed. It didn't matter. Beira was still out there, scheming, and that meant the whole kingdom was in danger. "Thank you," she said.

The ice dripped. She helped Theo and the knights collect the dead and dying throughout the farming village. On the edge of the manor yard, a handful of creatures the humans had captured were chained up. They cursed and shouted about revenge and never shut up. These were the sorts of fairies the knights knew best. It made Oboe wish the humans would just kill them too, at least until she noticed the pity in Theo's face. Oboe reminded herself that those fairies had loved ones and families. No matter how stupid they were being, this was still a tragedy.

The bodies were lined up. Ten mutilated humans, and almost as many fairies. A knight marched up the row of the dead, waving a censer smoking with sweet smelling spices. He sung, wordless, hanging on long aching notes. Oboe didn't understand the ritual, but it made her feel grateful he did this for the creatures too. Maybe the Mother would forgive them.

"Oboe," Theo said. There was quiet now as everyone watched the ceremony. "...We should talk. About what happened before."

It was true. "Not now," she said, standing next to him.

They listened to the song, until it was cut short. More than a hundred knights came marching into the village. Their shiny armor clattered, drowning out everything else. They wore capes, and fancy helmets, and looked so much larger than the battered team of watchmen that had saved the village. In front of them all was a mean little knight with a big stupid feathered hat.

"Where is the commanding officer?" Conrad Whitechain said. "Report!"

Fritz shuffled out into the open. His hand was pressed against his bandaged side. A hint of red stained through. His hair was ruffled, and there was still a smear of blood on his face.

"Danger's over. Beat the bastards back, but it cost us." He waved at the line of bodies. "Civilians are confirmed safe. Their homes aren't doing so great, though. Creatures used storm magic, and it's hurt the harvest bad." He sucked air through clenched teeth. "Gonna be a hard winter."

"This is unacceptable," Conrad said, surveying the carnage. "We have most of the Watch and two knight orders assigned to the valley, and these creatures are still out of control!"

Theo stepped forward. "The Watch isn't at fault. This was a plot."

Conrad's eyes fell on Theo and Oboe. He pushed a handful of fingers into his own face, bottling a tired laugh. "Grayweather," he said. "How is that whenever something goes wrong, it is always you I find at the center?"

"Shut up!" Oboe stomped up to face him. The men at his side drew their swords, but Oboe didn't care. "Theo came to warn everybody! He's the reason the village is saved!"

Conrad turned his head to look at the icy crop fields. "I suppose some of it still stands." He resumed glaring at them. "Your foresight is as convenient as it is peculiar. Rest assured that once there is time to investigate, I will tear down the veil and show everyone what you truly are."

"Hey detective," Fritz said. "Not to intrude on your pissing match here, but lay off. If the Ranger Deputy hadn't told us this was coming, we'd have lost the farmers and the crops. We got bigger problems right now."

Conrad's face turned grim. "You are correct, Lieutenant. This calls for drastic action. If the Watch cannot keep these creatures under control, we need to call in the royal guard. It's clear you all are being too lax on the Circle."

"You can't do that!" Oboe said. "The Circle is angry and scared. If you bring in more soldiers, you'll just make things worse!"

"What matters right now is order is restored. If the Fairy Council cannot control its people, then it's time we stepped in and trained them to be loyal and obedient." He threw an arm out at the farm. "We cannot allow things like this to happen!"

"Listen to me, Conrad," Theo said. "The one that led this attack is a unicorn called Countess Beira Stormbreak. She's a Red Cap sympathizer, a radical. She did this to provoke a war, and if the crown responds this way then we are doing exactly what she wants!"

"If I wanted the advice of a traitorous liar, Grayweather, I would've asked for it." Conrad straightened his gloves. "The king cannot tolerate this. I will speak with him directly and we will respond appropriately."

"She wants us to get angry," Oboe said. She felt hot, thinking of how Beira tricked her at the council. "That's not the answer. We should be calm, and careful, and smart. That's the only way we can save the Circle."

"Fuck the Circle!" Fritz said. He pointed at a dead knight on the ground. "You see that? That's Jeremy. He's got three kids. Suzy, Ryan, and Anne. What do you think is going to happen to them? Who do you think has to tell his wife about this?! If fairies are going to pull shit like this, they deserve whatever is coming to them!"

Oboe held his gaze, not knowing what to say. She saw grief in his eyes under the screaming. She wondered what to do.

"I want platoons two and three to stay here and keep guard," Conrad ordered. "Everyone else, back to the capital! The King will decide what happens now."


	23. Episode 7 Chapter 23

"Why are you listening to him?!" Perceval said. "You're going to start a war!"

The King of Laien kept his head bowed. He did not open his eyes. "This is a holy place. You will keep your mouth shut."

Theodore waited, and watched. A bell rang across the chapel and the whole cathedral vibrated with the lingering hum. This was how the prince managed to get Theodore face-to-face with King Stonewall. In the letter, Perceval explained that his father came to the Mother's sanctuary to pray whenever vexed or in need of guidance. The attack on North Manor more than qualified. If Perceval came with his father, and Theodore happened to be waiting ahead of them, the prince was sure they could make his father listen.

The priest circled the balconies of the upper floor, shuffling to each of the eight bells in turn for what felt like an eternity. One would ring, and the congregation would murmur another verse of prayer. The prince seethed, waiting for it all to finish, glaring murder at his father until the last bell was struck. He did not wait for the ringing to fade.

"I trust what Theo is telling us," Perceval said in a hiss. "If you do what Conrad proposes, you won't be stopping a revolt, you'll be creating one!"

King Stonewall bent down and reached with his thinning arms to turn his wheel chair to look at the two of them. He wore only a simple dressing robe and his crown. His face was drawn, unimpressed with his son's bluster, and weary from a lifetime of weathering disaster. He took his time to respond.

"Knight Detective Whitechain is the first in line to become the next Hero Champion. He is one of the few members of my cabinet who have proven unfailingly reliable." The king seemed smaller then when Theodore had seen him last. His skin was port marked, and he had lost all but the last of his hair. What had not changed was the certainty in his voice. "You could stand to learn something from him."

"I agree, your majesty. Conrad is fastidious with all he does." Theodore needed to be careful. He was standing here thanks only to the prince, and they were one wrong word away from losing this chance. "However, he does not understand the reality of what is happening in the Fairy Circle. This alliance is hanging on by a thread. If we seize control of their government, we will destroy what trust we have left."

"So I ought to listen to you instead." The King sighed. "Young man, the detective has many alarming things to say about you. I have allowed you to continue running around because I am grateful that you somehow convinced my son to return. Do not mistake that for trust."

"Theo is innocent! Conrad is blaming him for my mistakes!" The prince said, drawing attention from the crowd. There were only a handful of others in the ring of worship, but they were transfixed.

"The Court will decide." The King rolled his wrist towards the heavens. "If he is guiltless, you've nothing to worry about."

Perceval clawed at his hair. "You aren't listening! I know Theo can fix this situation, but you don't believe me! You'd rather just let everything fall apart!! Why don't you ever listen to me?!"

"Percy." Theodore held his hands up to calm him. "Please don't."

"Because you are a spoiled child who assumes he already knows everything," the King said, turning his wheelchair away. "We are done here."

Royal knights moved in to escort them out. Theodore felt a rush of panic. Percy charged his father and wrenched the wheel chair back to face him.

"Why are you like this!?" He said. "Did you even look at the reports I sent to you?! Theo stopped the Red Caps! The creatures adore him! If anyone can help us right now, it's him!"

"I said we are done. We will discuss this later."

"Devil damn you, old man! I hate you!"

Theodore's eyes darted. The bystanders witnessed the scene with shock and amusement.

"I won't have you cause a scene here of all places." The King glanced at the guards. "Return him to his room."

The knights pulled both Perceval and Theodore from the chapel. They dumped Theodore at the foot of the cathedral steps, but before they could escort him away, Perceval yanked his shoulders free of their hold.

"I need to talk to him," he said. "Two minutes."

The commanding officer folded his arms. "Be quick about it."

Perceval rejoined Theodore under the shadow of the royal knights.

"Stubborn old bastard," the prince said, kicking a stray stone in the road. "Can you believe this?"

Theodore stared. His mind had been somewhere else, drifting back to the last time he had seen his father. He remembered the argument they had parted ways with. Perceval's anger reminded him of his own, and it seemed so much more childish seen from outside.

"It's not easy for you to talk to one another."

"No." He said, sneering. "What tipped you off?"

Sitting down on the steps, Theodore looked into space. "You're both angry, and you're both frustrated. So, it always ends up like this. With screaming."

"It wouldn't have to scream if he would just hear me out! If he cared at all!"

Theodore shook his head. "I think he cares. Maybe too much. He wants you to be the best you can be. He wants to make sure you're ready. But he doesn't understand, because you can't talk."

"So what the hell am I supposed to do? It's always been like this! He never listens, and treats me like an idiot! There's nothing I can do!"

Maybe there was something. Theodore wondered what he would do, if he had another chance to talk to his father. "Maybe... I don't know. If you could show you hear him first. Let him know. Trust him when he says he's trying to do the right thing. Forgive him."

"Why should I?" The prince said. "He's the one who's in the wrong!"

"He doesn't have to be right," Theodore said. "You can forgive him anyway. Try to be the first to listen. See if you can make what you have work, even if it's not much. Maybe there's a chance." He paused. "But it's too late now. It's too late." Lance was gone.

The prince went quiet.

"I'm sorry," Theodore said. He stood up, fixing himself in the present. "This is your affair, not mine. I have work to do."

"Father won't listen to us. Conrad is readying an army. What are you going to do?"

Theodore looked out across the city, out toward the Whirlwood. "Oboe has an idea."


	24. Episode 7 Chapter 24

The Whirlwood sanctuary was full. Rows of creatures from all over the valley squeezed together on the seats of the amphitheater. Oboe watched from a distance, beneath the shade of the trees, and wondered how big a mistake she was making.

"It’s time," Gardner Feather said. "I rang the chimes. If any more are coming, then we do not have room for them. Go and speak."

The restless rumbling of the crowd washed over Oboe, and a tide of doubt came in. "This is stupid," she said. "They aren't going to listen to someone like me. You should be the one to talk to them."

Feather waved a gentle palm. "This was your idea, young blossom. I called these creatures here because I believe you will avert catastrophe, but I cannot speak for you. They need to see a warrior, not a priestess."

Oboe had never thought of herself as a warrior. She looked at the bandages on her hands and shoulder, and supposed it had happened without her realizing. Maybe if life had gone differently, she would have become a spriggan for the Circle. That wasn't her first choice. She'd rather be a knight like Theo. The good sort of knight who tried to protect everyone, like her tutors taught her about. The thought made her feel brave again, and strong. She clenched her fists.

"I'm ready."

A hush fell over the sanctuary as Feather and Oboe walked out into the sacred flowerbed. Oboe looked up at the countless faces around her, ghasts, fairies, and ferals, and swallowed the last of her fear.

"We have to take action," she said. "If we don't, the friendship we have with the humans and with one another will be torn apart."

"What the hell is this?" A brown furred werewolf stood up. "Gardner! I came here because you rang the chime!" He held out a small bell on a string. "Why are you letting this nameless faun speak in the Mother's sanctuary?!"

"Because this is important!" Oboe said, before Feather could speak. "Countess Beira wants to start a war. She's tricked the humans, made them so angry they're going to fight the Circle. If that happens, we can't go back!"

An elder gnome climbed up the horns of an elk. "I know about you! You killed the Fair Lady! You were punished for using illegal magic on a human! Why should we listen to someone wicked like you?! You don't belong in this valley!"

A murmuring filled the sanctuary. Oboe spoke over it.

"You're right. I don't belong here!" The creatures stopped talking. "My whole life, you all hated me. I made stupid mistakes, and I never got to belong anywhere." An anger flickered inside her, but she knew that wasn't the answer. "But the Whirlwood is still my home! I tried not to care, but I do. I'm not going to let my home be torn apart!"

"You want us to stop a war with the humans." A leshy, wood skinned with a mop of willow leaf hair, sat in the front row and bounced his long and gnarled knee, mulling over what was said. "Why should we? The humans don't care about us. They ban us from the city. They deny us jobs. Maybe a war is what we need."

Oboe tried to breathe. She was losing them, but she had to stay calm. "No. You're right. Things have been bad. That doesn't mean they can't get better. The Ranger Deputy is trying. He's a human that cares. We've all seen that!"

The crowd lightened. There was agreement about this.

"So, what?" The werewolf said. "They fired him. It doesn't matter now. Just goes to show the rest of them are trash."

"Theo can't do this by himself!" Oboe said. "He's just one human, but he's proof that there's good ones! Just like there's good creatures, and wicked ones too! I killed the Fair Lady because she was bad! If you knew her, you knew the truth! Nothing will change if we let the wicked do what they want!"

She stepped closer, eyes forward. "Tomorrow, Theo is going to stand up for the Fairy Circle to try and stop a war from happening. He's a good creature. I want to think all of you are good creatures too. I want to believe you all won't just stand back when this country falls apart. The kingdom of Laien is strong because, a long time ago, we all agreed to stop fighting and to work together! We believed things could be better than they were! They still can!"

No more objections rang out. The crowd sat in rapt silence. Feather smiled, head bowed.

"Tomorrow, I'm going to stand with Theo," Oboe said. "If you believe in him, and still believe in what Laien could be, I want you to stand with us. Show this country there are good creatures who won't let it all fall apart. That's what I came to ask you all today. Come to the Circle, and stand!"

The words ran out. Oboe ran out of things to say, but the crowd kept staring. The air hung heavy, and Oboe wondered if anything she said mattered.

"Damn you," the werewolf said with a growl. "Alright! Fine! I'll do it!"

Others stood up. "We'll do it for the Ranger Deputy!"

"My mom is going to kill me," a young troll said, groaning. "...Count me in!"

The greater part of the amphitheater rose, and the tide turned. Oboe looked on stunned. A cheer rang out as the creatures of the Greater Whirlwood did what she asked, swearing to stand with the Ranger Deputy.


	25. Episode 7 Chapter 25

Theodore felt the toy knight in his pocket. He needed to talk to Oboe, but never got an opportunity. She would come back to the Circle, each time bringing another handful of creatures volunteering to help, but then she would run off again to find more before the two of them could share anything but news.

He wasn't sure she'd slept. After the first batch of creatures agreed to help, she did not stop recruiting. The crowd in the Fairy Circle marketplace swelled from a few dozen to hundreds. The tents and stalls were broken down or moved aside as bodies filled every corner, facing out towards the Whirlwood. Theodore had given up on rest, having stolen only a couple begrudging hours before giving up. He replaced proper sleep with caffeine, and threw himself into organizing.

"Will we have to fight?" Barghest the werewolf asked, holding his wife's hand. It was a question Theodore was asked over and over again.

"I don't want it to come to that," Theodore told them. "But we should be ready. I won't make you stay if that changes anything."

"We are not cowards," Lola said. "If you think this will work, we will help you however we can."

Theodore thanked them, and left worrying about whether it would indeed work. Every new volunteer should have steeled his confidence. Instead he was scared. They were all risking their lives. He wanted to stop a war, not stage a battle.

"This is an army!" Knight Captain Myra Redriver said, bug-eyed when she saw the mass of creatures filling the Circle market. The knights at her command stood ready to act, but not without fear. There were far more creatures amassed here than there were human soldiers in the circle.

"It is a protest," Theodore said. "The knight detective is coming to take over. If that happens, our alliance with the fairies will be destroyed. None of these creatures want that to happen."

"It doesn't matter what they want!" Redriver said. "It's our job to follow the King's decree!"

"It's your job to protect the kingdom and everyone in it," Theodore said, stepping closer. "Or have they changed the oaths of the City Watch since I last reviewed them? These creatures are citizens, and their voice matters."

Myra met his gaze like stone. Her sword-arm still hung in a sling, still broken by the creatures of the Circle. Theodore knew she would fight him on this, she had good reason to, but he had no choice but to stand his ground. Instead, after a long moment, she looked down and the shiver of a chuckle ran up her body.

"Mother's tits," she said. "This is the same shit your father used to pull. Why am I even surprised?" She waved her good hand back at her men. "Alright kids! We're done here!"

"Sir?" They lowered their crossbows.

"We're here to keep peace," she said, her voice commanding again. "Nothing wrong with a protest if they keep it civil. We'll leave a few lads to keep an eye on things, but we've got better things to do than break this up."

Myra lingered as her knights dispersed. She rolled her shoulders, eyeing Theodore up like they'd never met.

"If this plan of yours goes wrong..." She shook her wrist like a gambler's dice cup. "They'll stick both our heads in the guillotine."

"It wouldn't be my first time," Theodore said.

She laughed, louder this time. She slammed a firm hand against his back, but he kept his footing. "Alright. I'll tell my boys they're free to join you if they've got the balls for it. Work another one of your miracles, Grayweather. I want to see where you're going with this."

Theodore did not expect any of the knights to come, but he was proven wrong. The score that came looked nervous, standing shoulder to shoulder with beasts, but were resolute. It took Theodore some effort to array the growing multitude at the entrance of the Circle.

The sky was restless and milky. Birds came to tell Theodore Conrad was coming. Starlings, finches, doves, and pigeons all brought the news in an excited panic, convinced they were the first to report it. The repeat of the news set Theodore more on edge each time. Where was Oboe?

Time was almost up. He wished he'd learned how to pray properly. It wasn't that he believed; he had always maintained that if the Mother of Magic were real she would need to be a cosmic force so vast and abstract that She could not possibly care about the petty needs of every creature. However, seeing all the creatures come to put their faith in this plan, risking themselves with so much riding on chance, left him wanting to count on something beyond planning and guesswork, beyond an assumed goodness in his fellow man, and beyond himself. They needed all the help they could get.

"Someone's coming!" A red plumed fury shouted from the rooftops, on lookout. Breaths were held as he adjusted his telescope. "It's Oboe! She's brought more!"

Theodore saw her lead a whole tribe of fish men swaggering out from the woods. They stank in the sun and squished when they walked. It was an immense relief to see her, despite the smell.

"I think that's everybody from Moss Tub Lake," Oboe said.

"We do not want war!" Muck, the fish men chief bellowed. "Very expensive! Too much!"

"I think you've brought the whole valley here," Theodore said.

"No, I haven't!" Oboe said, looking ragged. "There's a whole family of badgers in Gnomes Borough who won't even talk to me! I got a lot of ghasts to come, but there's a lot that are too angry, and Squirrels don't pay attention long enough to listen!"

Theodore smiled. Seeing Oboe banished the fear from his mind. As long as she was at his side, he knew they could do this. That wasn't rational. She was just one faun, but it felt as if she was the deciding factor between success and failure. She was the difference between a war and a miracle.

"I'm gonna go make another sweep at the Twilight grotto," Oboe said. "I don't think I found everybody there yet."

"There's not enough time," Theodore said. His cheer turned grim. "Conrad is on his way. I need you here."

"Are you sure?" She said. "I could still try. How much time do we have?"

None. The lookout started screaming. The sound of marching grew louder. Ranks of knights in clanking iron greaves appeared from the trees and fell into formation. It was a vast number, platoon after platoon, all with a single man in a cavalier hat marching at the front. 


	26. Episode 7 Chapter 26

Five hundred knights came to a halt. The main road into the Fairy Circle was blocked, filled to overflowing with the creatures of the Whirlwood. There was nowhere for them to go.

Fireballs ignited. Great spheres of rippling flame suspended on thin candles held by mages in the vanguard. Theodore felt his allies tense behind him. Claws scraped on the cobblestone, and creatures stirred. He was afraid they would lose face, break and run. They didn’t. The line held.

Knight Detective Conrad Whitechain lifted his hand, and the fireballs shrank down. He signaled for his forces to stand back. Crossing the threshold into the marketplace alone, he marched with intent. His armor was shining, with a silvery cape trailing behind him. It was grand, noble and new where Theodore's looked as shabby and mismatched as he felt.

Theodore and Oboe met the knight detective in the middle.

“Here you are again,” Conrad said. One eye glared up from beneath his hat. “The one constant amid this chaos. The eye of the storm.”

“Good morning, detective,” Theodore said, not wanting to be discourteous.

Conrad’s gaze drifted over the massive crowd of creatures. Countless eyes looked back, anxious.

“What is this?” He said.

“This is the Whirlwood,” Oboe said. “Everyone who was brave enough to stand up. Everyone who’s scared of what will happen if the humans invade. Everyone who wants there to be peace. This is everyone.”

Conrad sniffed. “You certainly have a way with animals, Grayweather.” He pushed his cape away from his sword hilt. “You know what this looks like to me? A revolt.”

“These aren’t soldiers,” Theodore said. “They’re civilians. This is a protest against the overthrow of the Circle government. Fairies, ghasts, and humans have enjoyed peace with one another for a thousand years. You violate the treaties by coming here to seize control. We can't allow that to happen."

“We are here by order of the crown.” Conrad’s nostrils flared. “I don’t know what said to trick these creatures, but you make every one of them a traitor. If you have any honor, you will tell them to disperse before you throw their lives away.”

“No!” Oboe said. “There’s more of us than there are of you! If you tear down the Circle, you’ll start a war! Creatures will get hurt! You’re the ones that need to leave!”

“We don’t want to fight,” Theodore said, trying to swallow. It was true that there were more creatures than knights, but only a fraction were trained fighters. Conrad’s men were trained and armed. A battle meant a slaughter. “This is a demonstration of the will of Laien’s people. You may be here on the King’s orders, but those orders are unjust. I want to parlay. We can find a better solution. There’s no reason to spill so much blood.”

“You’re right.” Conrad unfastened the straps of his gauntlet. “I don’t have to fight this horde you amassed. I can resolve this by spilling only a little blood.” He hurled his gauntlet down at Theodore’s feet. “A duel! You and me! To the death!”

Theodore stared at the gauntlet. “Conrad, we don’t have to do this.”

He scoffed. “I’ll show your hapless forces what you really are: A spineless, traitorous, and lying devil.” He drew his sword. “Fight me! I’ll crush you like I crushed you before and scatter your horde back to the wood! Let’s put this charade to an end!”

Theodore bent down. A knight could not refuse a challenge to duel without disgrace. He picked the gauntlet off the ground.

“Very well.”


	27. Episode 7 Chapter 27

There was no need to draw a ring. The two sides stood in wide crescents on edges of the market, almost but not quite meeting in the middle. All eyes were on the two men, and Theodore drew his sword.

"Theo." Oboe hovered behind his shoulder. "Are you sure? Are you ready to fight him?"

He had to be. "It won't be like last time."

"I want to fight with you," she said.

Conrad flicked his wrist into the air. "This is a duel, faun. No one is allowed to interfere. Perhaps it is foreign to you, but this is a matter of honor."

Oboe did not pay any attention to him. "We're a team. I should help you."

Theodore couldn't stop himself from smiling. "You've helped me more than anyone. You're the reason I know I can do this. Trust me."

She lingered another moment. The things she'd done, the example she'd set, all seemed a mystery to her. Nodding, she drifted toward the crowd. There was no doubt in her eyes, just a sorrow to part.

His sword scraped against Conrad's as they held them up high in the air. Both held a fist to their chest as a show of respect and then stepped two paces back.

Eleven years ago, Lance Grayweather dragged his only son up into the Upside Hills to camp. The two slept on bedrolls on the rocky cliffs. Theodore remembered how the freezing wind cut right through his clothes, and how his father forced him to eat wild game for breakfast. Roast rabbit on a spit. It made him cry to know the animal was alive and happy before they came.

"You have to eat," Lance told him. "If you're going to be a knight, you need protein."

Conrad came out swinging, hurling his whole being into a string of relentless slashes that Theodore watched and noted. The ox charged, but he stepped out of the way. The tail whipped, but he jumped away. The plow drove forward, hoping to tear his throat, but Theodore knew it was coming. One slash weaved into another, hungry to taste blood, but Theodore answered each strike with the counter his father had taught him.

"Why do I have to be a knight?!" Little Theo said, again and again and again.

Lance's response changed each time, searching for the one his son would accept. This was the answer that came back to him now, the one his father had given him after an endless day of sword drills and over a burnt haunch of meat.

"People need protecting." Lance stoked the fire. "Not everyone can be strong. Not everyone gets their voice heard. There needs to be good knights. That way it's better for everyone."

Conrad's sword zigged when it should've zagged, and he spun to attack from the other side. Theodore fumbled to block the attack, the blades shrieking against each other as he tried to keep the edge of the detective's blade from cutting his face.

"Are you done playing games?!" Conrad said, and kicked Theodore hard in the stomach. Staggered, Theodore found his footing in time to sidestep a piercing thrust. "I won't let you threaten Laien! It's not your toy! I will not let chaos reign!"

Theodore pushed forward a barrage from the roof stance. "I am not your enemy!" He said. "These creatures are not your enemy! We are all part of Laien!"

"Illegal weapons!" Conrad shouted, lunging. "The prince abducted! The duke enchanted! A Feymire invasion! Spies! The Fair Lady assassinated!"

Sweat trickled down Theodore's face as the two danced around each other's attacks. The indictments hung in the air, thickening it like tar and slowing Theodore's movement.

"You were never a knight," Conrad said, and sliced a red graze across Theodore's cheek. He stumbled back, and Conrad pointed a cocksure sword. "Just one more lie. If Lance were alive to see what you've become, he would die from disgrace."

Theodore felt the blood run down his face. His legs stiffened. He had made many mistakes as Ranger Deputy, and he couldn't afford to be reminded of them now.

"Theo!" Oboe shouted from the edge of the crowd. "Don't give up! You can do it!"

A cheer rose up behind her. The creatures erupted, calling Theodore's name, an echo of Oboe that grew louder.

"I hate this," Little Theo said to his father. "I don't want to be strong. I don't want to fight or hurt anyone. There's lots of other people. Why does it have to be me?"

The fog was clearing around the campsite as the sun came out, eleven years ago. Lance sat next to his son on a rain-worn rock and admired something he saw but Theo didn't. "Knights should care about what they're protecting. They ought to be sharp, ready to learn, should know the cost of their actions. I think you'd be good at it."

Theodore lowered his sword, and Conrad charged. The fool stance tore a bloody scar across Conrad's face from brow to ear and kept his ear lobe. Conrad did not stop to react, knocking Theodore's sword back with a clang. The detective hurled himself forward with the plow, aiming to skewer Theodore, but Theodore took better aim. Conrad charged into Theodore's sword, and was pierced through a chink in his armor. Blood spurt from the joint as he pulled away. Conrad's sword clattered to the ground.

"Devil damn you," he said, pulling a shard of magic from his belt. "I won't lose to a traitor!"

The magic pulsed. Conrad thrust his arm and Theodore rolled away as a jet of flame shot from his palm. Feathery wreaths of flame reached for Theodore and scorched the arena. The crowd on both sides scrambled back in panic. Theodore leapt to escape but the flames chased him.

There was only place Conrad would not shoot fire, and that was right on top of himself. Dropping his sword, Theodore tackled Conrad to the ground and held his wrists back as flames continued to streak out, until the magic depleted and the two were left lying on the ground with the market smoldering around them.

Conrad coughed, spent. Blood pooled around his waist. "There it is, then." His voice was a rasp. "Finish this."

Theodore stood. His sword was within arm's reach. The knights and the creatures all looked on, none permitted to interfere. Conrad's eyes were still full of anger, but it was tinted by the grudge of defeat. The detective was his father's pupil, and perhaps Lance had seen the same thing he saw in Theo. The difference between them was only a matter of experience.

"Nobody needs to die," Theodore said, and offered his hand.

"You have to," Conrad strained to say. "On your honor as a knight."

"I thought you said I wasn't a knight," Theodore said.

A painful laugh made Conrad wince.

"We're done here," Theodore said. "Come on. It's time to talk things out."

Conrad looked confused by the offer of mercy. Whatever the detective thought Theodore was, it was not this. Theodore kept his hand held out until his opponent finally took it.


	28. Episode 7 Chapter 28

"The royal guard needs to leave," Theodore said.

Conrad sat on the cot, fussing at the bandages at his waist. The healer slapped his hand away. After the duel, he was moved inside of one of the buildings commandeered by the watch. It was a restaurant with its tables cleared away to make room for the soon-to-be-wounded. Outside, an army of knights waited for instruction. Theodore needed to make sure they were the right ones.

"The King's orders still stand," Conrad said. "It doesn't matter if you humiliate me. The Circle needs to answer for the attack on North Manor. I've sent word to the King about your protest, but without royal decree we cannot withdraw."

"Then we'll get a royal decree," Theodore said. "A battle won't fix anything, all it will do is make more Red Caps. The only way to truly resolve this is by talking."

"That will be difficult." Gardner Feather entered, arms folded in the sleeves of her white mantle. She was followed by Fife and the Tall Man. "I have news."

Theodore braced himself. The odds of this being anything good were slim. "Tell me," he said.

"The Titled have barricaded themselves inside the Inner Circle palace with the bulk of the spriggan," she said.

"They expect the worst," the Tall Man said. "No doubt Beira is fanning their fears now that the King's army has arrived in greater force."

"We stopped their advance!" Theodore said, flailing for something to grasp onto. "We just need to prove there is no threat!"

"The damage may already be done," Fife said. "You halted the takeover. That’s incredible. But it doesn’t mean anything with the Titled holed up like this. They’re scared, and Beira is going to use that fear to her advantage. If she can’t coerce the council to appoint her Fair lady then she’ll push a Tournament of Titles and take power that way.”

"We can't risk that happening," Theodore said. Oboe had told him about the tournament. Even if Beira didn't win, it would lead to a Fair Lady who valued strength above anything else.

"Then none of this matters," Conrad said. "We will have to use force."

A horn sounded in the distance and, within a few moments, Oboe came pushing and shoving through the door. "Theo!" She said. "It's Percy!"

"What?!" Conrad said.

The group poured out into the market, with Conrad hobbling behind at the rear. The regiments of standing knights were parting to allow an entourage through. Prince Perceval, dressed in ceremonial robes, arrived flanked by royal bodyguards and foppish emissaries. The knights bowed, and the creatures gaped.

"Your grace." Conrad groaned as he forced himself forward. He was not supposed to be walking. "Why are you here? HOW are you here?!"

"I came to address the situation in person," he said. "I got special permission from my father."

"You did?" Theodore was astonished. "How did you manage that?"

The prince looked like he remembered an old joke, and he sighed. "After you left, Theo, I thought about what you said. I tried talking to father afterwards, after we both calmed down. I tried to really listen to him, and all the things he worries about. This time he actually listened back. He let me come here to help."

"You shouldn't be here, your grace," Conrad said. "It's too dangerous."

Perceval glanced at the knights that surrounded them. "Would you feel better if we'd brought another army?"

Conrad shut up. The prince gestured towards one of the royal messengers.

"Read the thing, Hubert."

The messenger stepped forward and unfurled a scroll. "Knight Detective Whitechain, by order of the crowned prince, you will withdraw the King's forces from the Fairy Circle and the Whirlwood. You are relieved of command of special operations and will return to the capital."

"After you've recovered," Perceval added.

"My prince, you can't do this." Conrad took the scroll, turning pale when he saw all the seals and signatures were in order. "We are in a state of emergency."

"I know," he said. "Which is why I need to put someone else in charge." The prince swept past Conrad and approached Theodore.

"Theo," he said. "May I borrow your sword?"

Unsure of what to say, Theodore unsheathed his sword from his hip and offered the hilt to his prince.

"Kneel," he said. So, he did. The prince held the sword out over Theodore's bowed head, and began to say the words.

"Theodore Grayweather, son of Lance Grayweather, and faithful servant of the land of Laien: I ask of you this oath. In the name of the Mother of Magic, will you stand for law and order within the Whirlwood Valley and all the rest of the kingdom?"

"I will," Theodore said.

"Will you keep peace between man, ghast, fey, and feral?"

"I will," Theodore said.

"With honor and care, will you speak for the crown among the trees, and speak for the trees before the crown?"

"I will," Theodore said.

"Will you give aid to those in dire need, great and small?"

"I will," Theodore said.

The blade touched one shoulder, and then the other.

"Then rise," the prince said. So, he did. "I name you Ranger Deputy of the Whirlwood, and entrust you with all power and authority vested in that office." He offered the hilt of the sword back to Theodore. It was light in his hand. A euphoria washed over him that rinsed away the ache and fatigue he felt before.

"Thank you."

Behind the prince, Theodore saw Conrad with a priceless face frozen in indescribable horror. The marketplace stood in reverent silence.

Perceval scratched his nose. "So, uh. Now that we've got that out of the way..." He looked out over the crowd of creatures and spoke with a loud voice practiced for speeches. "Denizens of the Whirlwood! My name is Prince Perceval Stonewall of Laien, and today I come to you on the King's authority! Our peoples, who have enjoyed generations of peace, now have that very peace threatened!" He turned to Theodore. "So I look to your Ranger Deputy, who has lived among you for months! I ask how things have gone wrong!"

Theodore coughed, embarrassed to make a show of this. "The... The creatures suffer because our kingdom has been unfair to them. We have banned them from the city, and we treat them with suspicion and scorn. We have ignored their anger and unhappiness, and now that the Fair Lady is dead, we threatened to take their independence."

"Very well!" Perceval said. "Then this I promise all of you! I will reverse the ban on creatures across all of the capital! I will withdraw the knights from the Circle! As King, I will do all in my power to restore the peace and friendship we once shared, so that our bond will falter no longer!"

A great whooping cheer roared across the Circle marketplace. Perceval waited, hands raised, with a certain irritation for it to die down.

"I now send the Ranger Deputy to speak with the Titled fairies, granted all authority by me, to restore peace between our people!"

Another wave of cheering flared up, drowning out all other sound. Theodore, so overwhelmed in the moment, did not notice the danger until it was too late.

Conrad shouted something. He pushed past Theodore and the Prince, shoving them both to ground. There was a noise like lightning or the falling of a tree, deafened by the crowd. A javelin of ice dug itself into Conrad's shoulder and hurled him across the market into the knights. Theodore spun to see where the attack had come from and saw a unicorn standing high on the roof tops. A lance of ice forming in front of her, floating and ready to launch like a ballista.

"Protect the prince!" Someone yelled. Beira fired her frozen spear across the Circle, but the prince's bodyguards threw up a magic barrier and the icy weapon shattered against it. The knights rushed forward, pulling Perceval behind cover and open firing with a barrage of crossbow bolts. The Whirlwood creatures scattered. Beira Stormbreak bounded across the rooftops, dodging missiles and spells as they pot marked and punctured the houses. She reared, kicking her hooves in the air and laughing at them. Theodore caught her mocking gaze before she vanished from sight.

Theodore stood still amid the chaos, knowing but dreading what needed to be done.


	29. Episode 7 Chapter 29

"Open the doors!" Oboe shouted. "He's the Ranger Deputy!"

The spriggan peered down from atop the battlements of Inner Circle palace. They knew. Word traveled fast in the Circle, and Feather traveled ahead to make sure it was known. Still, they hesitated, staring, not wanting to be the ones to throw open the gates for a human.

"I come alone, and I come unarmed," Theo said. "I am not a threat."

"Our orders are that none may pass!" One said.

They had only just arrived and Oboe was already fed up. "The law says you let him through! Stop wasting time!"

Cowed, the spriggan retreated inside. After another moment, the massive doors of the palace creaked open. A troop was waiting on the other side, led by a scowling Commander Épée.

"You may enter," she said. "The Queenslayer will stay--"

"She's coming with me," Theo said. He took Oboe's hand and brushed past the guards. The spriggan did not stop him. The doors were sealed shut behind them.

At every wall and at every window, fairies stood ready with spears and bows. There were fey of every type, some without armor and some with simple clubs or no weapon at all. Oboe turned her head, and saw children and elders packed into side halls and corridors with misplaced crates and furniture. These were civilians. The palace had become a stronghold against the invading humans, and it seemed everyone in the Circle had taken shelter here. The sight of them softened Oboe's anger and reminded her why they had come. Together, they hurried up to the solarium where the arguments had started without them.

"You have lost your mind!" Gardner Feather said with an anger that startled Oboe. "The humans promised us peace, in spite of all that has happened, and again you endanger us all by provoking them!"

The Titled froze the moment Theo entered. They were scattered across the room, staring out the window or sitting away from the roundtable. Some stood with Feather, but others gathered behind Beira. If the countess had any reaction to the arrival of Theo, she did not show it beyond a flick of the tail.

"The humans have promised these things before," she said. "Empty oaths. Words without magic. Are you truly so naive, Gardner? Nothing will change if we fall for this trick, and we will suffer the same injustice. We cannot throw away this opportunity. The time is at hand for us to throw off this oppression and crush the human tyrants."

The other Titled did not say anything. Maybe they were too nervous now that a human was listening. Theo adjusted his glasses.

"There are other solutions."

Beira trotted closer, her movement cool and serpentine. "I hear congratulations are in order, Grayweather. Not that it matters. Nothing you can say can change the fact that the humans have come to storm our gates."

"That isn't true!" Oboe said. "Percy ordered the knights to stand down. Theo is here to talk things out! It's not too late."

"Many of you are angry," Theo said. "You have a right to be. Things between our people have been broken and unfair for a long time. It's something that's been there, but I wasn't even aware of until I came to work in the Whirlwood. That anger, and our ignorance of it, are the reason there are Red Caps. It doesn't have to be that way. I'm listening, and we can work through this."

"Yes! You see?" Feather looked flustered. "We don't have to throw away the treaties! All the creatures Oboe brought to the Circle are proof of that. The Mother's children can live in harmony!"

"So eager to grovel at the boot heel of the humans," Beira said. "Some of us are not so resigned to the role of victim. We know those humans came to wrest control of our own lives from us. These platitudes are only a means to make us surrender. To make the work they've come to do easy."

"Beira, what you are suggesting would be the death of all of us," High Lady Willow said. "We cannot win a war against their iron and industry!"

"Coward!" General Warsong shattered her teacup against the floor. "I will not debase our people like this! Stormbreak is right!"

The Hivemother heaved herself across the room. "This pride will be the death of us. We are the envy of all Fairy Circles because of the prosperity of the Laien economy. Let us fix what is broken before it is too late."

"Get over it, you bloated grub!" The steely eyed gnome Baroness said. "We have been stagnant for one-thousand years. Countess Stormbreak will be our new Fair Lady, or else nothing will change!"

An argument raged. The Titled threw insults and bickered. Theo tried to raise his voice, but it was drowned out. Oboe yelled even louder for him, but they were all too absorbed in their own voices to hear.

Beira's horn started to glow and made a shrill ringing sound that silenced everyone for just long enough for her to speak.

"There is no more time," she said. "We must appoint a Fairy Lady but cannot agree. So, once again, I propose we decide this with the Tournament of Titles."

"No!" Oboe said. "There's no need! The humans want to talk!"

"We did not ask your opinion, nameless," High Lady Willow said. "I see now that the Tournament is the only way. The threat the humans pose is clear. The strongest must lead us."

Feather shook her head. "We must not define ourselves through violence!"

The Hivemother let out a great shivering groan. "I loathe to admit this, but the countess is right. A tournament is the swiftest way to reveal the new Fair Lady. Let us stop blathering and be done with it. All in favor?"

Before Theo or Oboe could stop the vote, the greater part of the room gave a shout. The motion passed like the blade of a guillotine. Feather let out a cry of grief.

"Do not look so sour, Gardner!" Beira said, taunting. "It is your own fault you took a vow of peace. If you wanted to become the Fair Lady so badly, you should have thought ahead!"

"Wait!" Theo said. "There must be a better way to appoint your leader than fighting one another!"

"Do not mock our customs, human," the Hivemother said. "A Fairy Queen must be respected and feared by her Titled, or else they are no Queen at all. If she cannot fight or does not command the loyalty so that others would die for her, then she is not worthy of our throne."

Oboe looked at Feather. The Gardner wanted so bad to make the Circle better. She was the only one of them Oboe trusted. If others could fight in her place, then Oboe knew what she needed to do.

"I want the Gardner to become the new Fair Lady. Let me fight for her!"

"Impossible!" Countess Thornberry scoffed. "Queenslayer, you already forfeited any right you had here when you assaulted the Countess! You are nameless, and we will not have you disgrace the ritual!"

Oboe wanted to scream. Of course the Council would forbid her from violence for being too violent. She cursed herself for her past mistake. If there was going to be a Tournament of Titles, there was a chance Beira would win. She couldn't let that happen. Needing some other option, any other, she looked at Theo.

"What about the Ranger Deputy?" She said.

The Titled were stunned by this suggestion. "He isn't a fairy!"

"He has a voice in this council!" Oboe said. "That means he has a right to fight for someone!"

Flabbergasted, the Titled discussed this point amongst themselves. Theo pulled Oboe aside.

"What are you doing?" He said.

She felt a flash of shame at having volunteered him for this, at wanting to gamble him and everything on the future she saw in Feather. "Theo, I need you to answer a big question. I need you to tell me if you can kill Beira."

He said nothing. Oboe felt even worse.

"I think the Gardner can make the Circle better," she said. "They aren't going to let me fight for her. But, maybe you can. I know you can fight. I've seen you do it. I just don't know if you can kill. That's what happens in the Tournament of Titles. Can you kill Beira?"

He hesitated. "...Yes." There was a tremor in his eyes.

"Theo, I'm serious. I don't want you to do this unless you can win. I need you to be my knight. Can you kill her?"

His gaze firmed, resolute. "I can kill her. I have to."

The Hivemother stomped a leg. "It is decided! Unorthodox though it may be, the Ranger Deputy may fight. However, he may only fight and risk his life as champion on behalf of one of us. Does he agree to do this?"

"I do," Theo said. "I will fight in your Tournament so that Gardner Feather may become the new Fair Lady."


	30. Episode 7 Chapter 30

Shouts and bustling could be heard below. Theodore looked up from his books and peered out the window at the arena nestled at the foot of the palace. The spriggan were moving the refugees out of the stadium, while worker gnomes and pooka cleared the field of debris. The Tournament of Titles was to begin at dawn, and whoever won would dictate the fate of the kingdom.

"Hey!!" Thistle whacked Theodore upside the head with a ruler. "Pay attention! You wanna get gored in the tournament??"

Theodore rubbed his temple and turned his eyes back toward the study material in front of him. Books and scrolls borrowed from the city watch and the Circle Library, all describing the species of unicorn and how to survive an encounter with them. An array of diagrams and illustrations were spread out in front of him. Each was depicted as furious and monstrous, skewering men and bucking wildly as parties of at least ten soldiers were called on to restrain one.

If Lance ever taught Theodore how to fight a unicorn then it was clear Theodore did not listen. The texts reminded him of his father's advice, an echo either imagined or half kept. The fairy scrolls on the subject were more useful, but so loaded with jargon to be inscrutable. Fife and Thistle offered to offered to interpret, although Thistle's help was questionable.

"You aren't reading hard enough!" He said, pounding the pages with a tiny fist. "Use more of your eyeballs!"

Theodore tried not to let the sylph distract him. "This is something I don't understand." He pointed at a passage. "This says that weather magic should never be used for combat. That doesn't make any sense. Isn't that what Beira uses? It's clear she is very powerful."

Fife swirled his goblet and nursed his apple wine. He looked a nervous wreck, as if he was the one called upon to fight in the tournament. "Power is not the issue. Magic of storm and season can be extremely potent if used skillfully." He took another swig. "That passage is a warning for young fairies born with the skill not to become warriors."

"They don't earn many fates," Thistle said. "They get a little at a time, helping plants grow and easing the transition of the seasons so life can flourish. It's subtle, and gentle, and hard to do well. Using that magic for war costs too much, more than any of them can earn back."

"She's cutting her lifespan short," Theodore realized. "She's not even hesitating to do so."

"It makes her more dangerous than most," Fife said. "There's no way to tell how many Fates she wields, but it's clear she will spend every last one to tear our peoples apart."

Theodore wondered if his conviction matched hers. Getting up, he fussed with the equipment he had readied. A simple iron longsword and his borrowed armor. Part of him wished he'd kept his father's broken sword, with its vorpal curse, but it was not something the fairies would ever allow in the tournament. Not that it mattered. Theodore had watched the sword as it was melted down and dispelled.

There were so many clasps and straps to the armor. So many half-remembered pointers on maintaining his equipment, on how to use it, on how to fight and how to defend himself. Putting on armor and holding a sword still felt unreal to him, but it was dangerously real and every moment he spent worrying about how much was riding on him was time not spent preparing.

He ran a whet stone across the blade of the sword. "She can turn invisible. Is there anything I can do about that?"

Thistle grunted. "Not much. Any unicorn can do that. They can't cast any other spells when they do, though, so there's that."

"You will still be able to hear her, and feel her hoof steps," Fife said. "You will have to attend to your surroundings so she does not get close enough to stab you with her horn."

Theodore clenched his teeth and imagined himself paranoid and jumping around an empty arena. The more he thought about the coming battle, the less confident he felt.

"What about the other combatants?" Theodore said. "What can you tell me about them? What do I need to look out for?"

There was a knock at the door before either of his coaches could answer. Theodore unlatched the door and found Oboe on the other side with a dish of fruit, cheese and bread.

"Um." She stood there, as if forgetting why she had come. She stared down into the dish and remembered. "I brought you some food," she said. "I can't cook like you, but I scrounged what I could. I don't know when you ate last."

Theodore had forgotten himself. Whatever appetite he had was buried by days of anxiety still piling higher and higher. Despite this numbness, he knew he needed to eat. "Thank you."

She set the dish down on the table, and there was a long moment of tense quiet. Thistle's expression changed. He looked as if he had noticed something both urgent and terrifying.

"Hey, uh." His four eyes swiveled between everyone in the room, until settling on Fife. "Listen. Me and the Circle faun here have to go deal with something, okay? We'll be back later."

"What're you talking about?" Fife was bewildered. "What on Earth could be more important than what we're already doing?"

"Something IMPORTANT," Thistle said, hissing.

"Do you need help?" Oboe said, concerned.

"No, I don't need any help from you!" Thistle said, sounding very angry. "I'm just going to take your brother here while you two enjoy your meal. Goodbye!"

Theodore watched as Thistle dragged a confused Fife out of the room by the kneecap. The door closed, and then he was alone in the room with Oboe.


	31. Episode 7 Chapter 31

There was an awkward quiet. Theodore and Oboe stared at one another, the dish of fruit and bread and cheese still untouched.

Ever since the dinner, and that kiss that ended so poorly, Theodore needed to talk to Oboe. Even after she came back, so much else had gone wrong that there was never a moment to speak. Now there was calm, and even privacy, but Theodore discovered he had forgotten his voice and stranded both of them in tense discomfort.

"I'm sorry," Oboe said, bewildering him.

"What?" He had no idea what she was apologizing for.

She fussed with the dish of food, as if arranging the apple slices just so would fix some problem.

"I shouldn't have kissed you," she said. Her eyes were fixed on the meal, away from him. Tears budded in the corner of her eyes, but she kept them back. "...I've been selfish. And angry. All those years, alone, and then you came and... ...And I didn't care what happened. I just wanted to be with you."

"Oboe," he said, moving closer, needing to say something but struggling to find the words. He reached out a hand and she pulled away.

"I'm greedy," she said. "You knew that wasn't right. ...There's so many creatures. We're all stupid, and lonely, and kind, and wicked, and wonderful. I didn't have any right to kiss you or take you away. I'm awful. It wasn't fair, not to you or anyone else."

She always did this. She always turned her pain on herself, taking the blame and forgetting the credit she deserved. That's what wasn't fair. Theodore took his friend by the shoulder and pulled her to face him again.

"No," he said, and kissed her. She fell into the kiss, like a raindrop running down the contours of a stony hill to join a stream, a river, and the sea. She held onto him like she was drowning, and the kiss was her one breath of air that she breathed in with aching, ready lungs. It woke something in Theodore. His careful, rational mind broke like a sky of dark storm clouds. It poured itself into her, emptying itself to reveal something bright and warm. A feeling that had been there, hidden, and he could not stop himself from admitting any longer.

Their lips parted. Oboe trembled, pressed against him, her breath shaky. She looked up at him, her face a desert in bloom.

"Don't say you're sorry," Theodore said, and started to cry. "You deserve to be kissed, to be loved. ...I've never had a friend like you. Not ever. I never would've let myself. I don't know how. ...But you do! You're always honest and real, and you want so bad to do what's right all the time, and... and it makes me want to do everything I can!" He was sputtering, choking on the tangled knot of thoughts that had haunted him since she'd run off. "You're so strong, Oboe. So strong, and brave, when all I am is scared, and I don't want you to be ashamed of that! Everyone needs me to be some sort of hero knight, but I'm not. You are. You're the sort of hero I need to be! Don't you know that...?"

She reached up, concerned, and wiped the tears from his cheek with a caress. Her mouth hung open, overwhelmed, with eyes overflowing.

"I love you," he told her. The confession was a weight off his chest that sent him soaring. “You make me feel like more than I am. Like I can do this. Like I can do anything! Because I’ve watched you.” He laughed through his tears. “I know I can be a good knight because you bring that out of me. You showed me it isn’t anything to be ashamed of. ...Thank you.”

“Theo.” She held him, her hands squeezing him tighter, her breath held and her eyes aching to finally say: “I love you too.”

They kissed, pulling close, not wanting this moment to end. They clung to it. They kissed again, and again. Gasping for breath, they stumbled back across the room. Books and pieces of armor clattered to the floor as their hands ran across each other's bodies, lips locked together. Her fingers gripped the folds of his clothes while he fumbled to undo the impossible array of buttons on his shirt.

If any part of Theodore paused to think about what he was doing, to identify this moment as wrong or unnatural, it was drowned out by need. It didn't matter what the rest of the world thought, all he could feel was simple and pure adoration for Oboe. His shirt came off, and his belt was unlooped to free him. Her nails traced up his thin torso and across his scars. Still kissing her, he thrilled in the full curve of her thighs and bottom as they found the bed together. Hidden in her fur, he found the pert nub of her small breasts. She let out little gasps of pleasure, and each tiny moan drove him mad with excitement. The pin in his hair came loose, and his long taupe colored locks fell free.

He felt a fool. Theodore knew nothing of pleasing a woman, let alone a faun. Lovemaking was something he knew about in theory from books but never in practice. Oboe seemed better equipped, ready and hungry. She took his glasses and climbed on top of him, feeling him while staring with a mix of excitement and disbelief. She took hold of him, mounting him, sliding their eager bodies together like pieces of a puzzle that needed to be solved. The sensation blotted everything else out. The fear, the worry, the fate of the kingdom, every mistake they had made to reach this fragile moment, it was all replaced with the joy he felt there with her.

Oboe chewed her lip through a tight smile, quivering while she rocked against him. She was ravenous, growing louder and more vocal as she thrust and climbed in pitch, fingers tight on his chest and his hands on her busy hips. Her voice stuttered, crashing down a crescendo of squeals, prayers and oaths until Theodore himself could take no more and the last of his anxiety escaped him while held in the precious embrace of his friend and lover.

No more time was made for study or preparation that evening. Instead, Theodore found himself entwined with Oboe. They held each other and explored the rapture of their bodies until they were so spent they fell into sleep more restful than either could remember.

This precious bliss was broken by the coming of the dawn. Theodore woke to the sound of trumpets, to crowds moving and shouts. He searched for his glasses and found Oboe fast asleep against him. Her smile was perfect, and she was so snug and warm. It pained him to wake her. She stirred.

He would do this for her. It didn’t matter if he was ready. Oboe needed him to do this and he wanted to be the knight she saw in him.

"It's time," he said.


	32. Episode 7 Chapter 32

Oboe did not want to let him go. He pulled himself free of her, taking part of her with him. Harsh sunlight stole through the window, a thief come to steal Theo away. He gathered his equipment, moving quick but with the same precise care he handled paperwork.

"I need to hurry," he said. "Can you help me?"

Squirming, Oboe made a feeble effort to get up. She fell out of bed onto the floor and hurried to his side. He fit a breast plate over his chainmail and pointed his back toward her.

"I can't reach very well. Hook the clasps."

She fastened the straps, wondering if she was doing it wrong, and worried. The reality of the tournament was sinking in, draining her of the ecstasy of the night before, leaving her sober and afraid. She had asked Theo to do this. That selfish part of her that wanted to run away pulsed, wanting to keep him safe, wanting him all to herself.

Theo turned around. His armor was simple, battered steel plates, greaves and leather gloves. For the first time he looked like the knight she always knew he was. It reminded her that he had a duty. There wasn't any other choice. The Whirlwood needed him to fight.

"Don't die," Oboe said.

He slid his sword into a leather sheathe at his belt. He spoke with a firm confidence that made her believe. "I won't."

The horns sounded outside in the arena. There really was no more time. She hugged him tight. The iron in his armor stung, but she didn't care. She kissed him one last time, gulping the last drop of water from the canteen, not knowing whether there would be anymore. He lingered, admiring her with his bright green eyes, before going to confront his fate.

Over the course of her life, Oboe learned to be nervous when good things happened. If she thought she made a friend it was never long before that creature, or that creature's family, realized she was nameless. It was only ever a matter of time until something went wrong. Yet, she kept trying. Kept hoping.

The hallways of the palace were empty. All eyes and bodies would be drawn to the tournament arena. Oboe made her way to the seating, getting lost, trying to shake the looming sense of doom hanging over her.

"There you are!"

Oboe was startled to see her brother Fife marching up from behind. "Where have you been? Have you seen the Ranger Deputy? The tournament is starting soon!"

"He just left for the Challenger’s Paddock," she said.

Fife relaxed, but only a little. "Good," he said. "I was hoping we could do more to prepare the Deputy, but it looks like it's too late now. What were you two even talking about for so long?"

"Um." Oboe's ears burned red hot. She didn't know what to tell her brother, or if it would be a good idea to say anything at all.

"I suppose it doesn't matter now," Fife said, much to her relief. "There's nothing left to do but pray. Come along. That surly sylph friend of yours is holding our seats."

It was strange seeing the arena filled like it was when she was a child. It felt smaller now, and there was a tense and eerie quiet throughout the crowd. Below on the field, the Hive Mother was delivering a speech with lots of important sounding words.

"How many Titled are fighting?" Oboe said.

"Countess Stormbreak is, but that's hardly a surprise. High Lady Willow was more unexpected. She struck me as too cautious for this. Apart from the Deputy, the only other combatant is General Warsong"

"That's all?" Oboe said.

Fife grimaced. "The cost of losing is too high. If you yield, you are made nameless. You bore that shame, but most would rather fight to the death."

Oboe realized that Feather was taking a risk the Highest were not. If Theo lost, she would be made nameless, and the Greater Whirlwood would lose the Gardner.

They found Thistle snarling at creatures trying to take the seats beside him and munching on caramel apples.

"How can you eat at a time like this?" Fife said.

"It's called stress eating," Thistle snapped. "Don't judge me. I bought you a bottle of applewine."

"Oh, thank the Mother," Fife said.

They sat, and horns sounded one more time. Oboe stiffened as she saw Theo striding out onto the field, tall and ready. General Warsong stood opposite to him, with her coal black feathers and her talons curled like scythes.

The gong rang, and Warsong flew like an arrow at Theo. Theo stepped out of the way and drove her back with a flurry of slashes that caught her legs and arms. She knocked him away with a kick, staggering him, and swung her halberd in a wide sharp arc.

Theo’s sword came down, chopping the wood of the halberd and snapping it in half. Warsong dropped the pieces and lunged to tear with her claws, only for Theo to grab and twist her by the arms. He forced her down, beak in the dirt, pinning her. She wrestled, scraping and grazing him, fighting to get free, but he wore her down. It was not exciting to watch. There was no decisiveness, only a long struggle that ended with an exhausted General admitting defeat with a wail.

Warsong was stripped of her armor and forced out. Theo disappeared into the underground. Oboe felt some hope return, that this would all work out.

Then Beira arrived, naked without her caparison, scarred but proud. Standing opposite to her was High Lady Willow. She was tall and broad like a tree draped in silken robes. Whatever tactic she had in mind was a mystery and would stay that way. Before the starting bell finished ringing, Beira pinned her opponent to the ground with a javelin of ice.

The difference between Theo and Beira was night and day. Beira tore into Lady Willow, freezing her to the ground with ice, and goring her with her horn. Her hooves came down on the face of her opponent, crushing it, spilling the leshy's amber blood. The victory bell sounded, but she did not stop, beating what was left of her opponent to a pulpy smear.

Oboe held her breath.


	33. Episode 7 Chapter 33

Theodore watched in silence as the body was removed from the arena field by a team of spriggan. A ruddy stain was left in dirt, an imprint of a life snuffed out. He balled a fist. Gardner Feather leaned closer to him, a gentle hand at his back.

"Can you do this?" She said. "If you cannot do this, you must forfeit."

"They'll take your name if I do that," he said.

"Better that I give up my name than you surrender your life for nothing."

"Not nothing," Theodore said. "I won't let Beira become Fair Lady."

Feather bowed her head. "I do not know what the Mother intends in all of this. I never presumed to want the throne, and, I think, you never thought to fight for us. I just pray we are reaching for the Fate we were meant for."

It wasn't a matter of prayer for Theodore. Beira was dangerous. Her grievances, valid as they were, could tear Laien apart. Her vision of the future was bloody: A great and terrible liberty. Theodore told himself faith didn't enter the equation, but it did. There had to be another way. He needed to believe, in spite of all the strife between humans and creatures, that the grand experiment of this alliance could still work.

"When I make you Fair Lady, I need you to do everything in your power to fix the Circle," he said. "Uphold the treaties, and make sure the sort of thing that happened to Oboe never happens again."

"I..." It took her a moment to adjust to his certainty. "Yes. Of course."

The gong rang. Theodore marched out onto the field, where Beira Stormbreak was waiting for him. She scraped the ground with her hoof, snorting, her body speckled by gore. The white hair on her brow was stained with Oboe's blood from the battle before, and the wounds ripped across her flank had blackened into scabs. The composure seen at the council was gone, stripped away, revealing a hatred and anger beneath that resembled the monsters in storybooks.

Theodore held a hand to his chest to show respect. It didn't matter what Beira looked like, and it didn't matter that they meant to kill one another. They were both creatures, and they were both fighting for what they believed.

Snowflakes whirled around the unicorn. She eyed him, sizing him up with a crazed look. "Weak," she said, with hungry delight.

The air turned dry and hot around them as moisture was pulled towards Beira. A flash. Spears of ice materialized, floating in front of her. Before the starting gong rang, she launched them and they sang, whistling through the air one after another. Ready, Theodore whipped out of the way of the first two and drew his sword. He knocked the last from the air and sent it cartwheeling across the arena until it burst.

Theodore allowed himself the tiniest smirk and paid for it when Beira breathed out a freezing gale of wind that lashed at him, pushing his boots back along the loose dirt and roaring through his ears. The spectators screamed as the wind blasted through the stadium and knocked them from their seats.

Fighting to keep from being thrown from his feet, Theodore pushed against the typhoon. Before he could get close enough to attack, the wind stopped without warning and he was thrown off balance. Beira charged, horn aimed at his heart. He tumbled out of the way, losing his glasses in the act but spotting an opportunity. She passed him, her flank exposed just for moment. The old screams filled his mind as he swung to carve her flesh. He faltered. His sword cut air. She escaped.

The air was now thick with fog, and his vision was a blur. Her silhouette flitted through the mist and vanished. The stadium was loud with shouts and confusion. Theodore spun, trying to spot his invisible foe by some hoofprint in the snow. It was too late. The icicle lances came singing out from the haze and forced Theodore to dodge and weave as they came from every direction. He heard each one coming, but just barely. His focus wavered, deafened by the memory of every death he had ever seen or caused. All he could do was evade, helpless, while each of Beira's attacks came closer and closer to ending him.

This wasn't good enough. He needed to be on the attack, but his glasses were gone and his mind was distracted. He couldn't afford to be merciful; Beira was relentless. There was only one way to win. A knight was needed, with everything that entailed. He needed to be the bigger monster.

The mist parted. Theodore heard the gallop of hooves. Beira was invisible, but she was coming. He reminded himself that Oboe wouldn't hesitate. Oboe would do what had to be done to protect what she cared about. He readied his sword, and before the unicorn could drive her horn into his heart he moved to one side and sliced a red streak down the length of thin air as she passed.

Beira slowed to a halt but made no sound or taunt to reward him for his cut. All he could make out was a silhouette before she disappeared back into the mist.

Theodore felt his heart race. A familiar, dark excitement lit up within him again. A thrill to fight and conquer. It frightened him as it always had, but he did not suppress it this time. If there was an evil inside him, it was needed right now. Oboe's magic was called wicked, but she had put it to righteous purpose. If she could transform into a beast, so could he.

Peering through the fog and the roar of the crowd, Theodore caught the coppery scent of blood. He chased it, dashing across webbing frost. A new gust of wind blew to stop him, and Theodore hurled himself against it, using all his might to force a route straight to his target. He brought his sword down before he could see her, chopping gashes across her face and legs in a frenzy and driving her back.

She reared, shrieking, and pushing past his slashes she dove to plunge her horn deep into his waist. Theodore fell. His sword was knocked from his hand. Beira bore down on top of him, stomping with all her weight on his chest to crush him. The breastplate bent, squeezing the air from his lungs. Theodore's hand found the sword. The ring on his finger clicked against the hilt. He rolled before Beira could crush him. The words of the Tall Man rang in his ears, and he pushed himself back onto his feet, feeling his life dripping down his legs. There was no pain, no old screams, just adrenaline and a need to draw more blood. He lunged to strike her, and she disappeared again.

Dazed, Theodore knew he would not survive another attack like that. He realized his mistake. There was no discipline in his attacks, no technique. Lance had taught him better than that. A knight harnessed rage and shaped it, driving it like a chariot to its purpose. Theodore took the plow stance and limped forward. The scent of her blood was masked by his own, but now the ghosts of his past were silent. He heard her hoof beats and followed.

Spears of ice whizzed out from the edges of his vision, and he batted each away and readied himself for the next. She tried to escape, growing more frantic, but he had crippled her forelegs. With each step he closed the distance between them. She caused icicles to rain down on him, stabbing his skin like needles, but he pushed through. Right when he was almost upon her, she turned invisible.

He lunged, driving his sword deep into an opponent he could not see. Beira screamed, appearing in front of him. Twisting the sword, he pulled it free. She fired a spell at his feet, sending ice creeping up his legs. Theodore hacked at her horn, it splintered and the spell wavered. With one more strike he chopped the horn off and the spell fizzled out.

His anger tensed like a taut drawn bow, aimed to kill. He loosed it. He ripped his legs free of the half-formed ice and tore into the unicorn, stabbing and hacking and ripping fast and vicious until the unicorn buckled, aimless, panicked, as he did not stop, his stances forgotten as he tore deep gashes across her flesh with fierce abandon, all sense replaced with a searing hatred for what Beira had done and meant to do.

She collapsed, thrashing against the ground. Theodore realized the grim reality of what he had done, and he found himself standing over his opponent, drenched in her blood, panting, wounded. His sword was primed to slit her throat.

Beira looked up, bathed in blood and wheezing. She was still trying. Bucking impotently, the frost melting beneath the pooling red. Pity sprang up in Theodore.

"Yield," he said, panting, knowing that wasn't the answer, knowing she was still too dangerous to allow to live, knowing it was already too late to save her but wanting to offer the same hand he used to pull Conrad onto his feet. “Please.”

The unicorn growled, foaming at the mouth. She spoke, a lifetime of hate dripping off two syllables.

"End this."

Theodore took his sword in both hands and whispered an apology. He drove the sword across her throat and wept as he watched the last of her struggle end.


	34. Episode 7 Chapter 34

The body was taken. The spriggan hurried to smuggle the heavy corpse out of sight and out of mind. Theodore did not move. All round him, the stadium hollered and whooped and hissed. The last of the mist faded. As the heat of the battle left, the pain in Theodore's side sharpened. He could hear Gardner Feather, now Fair Lady, delivering a speech, but it was just more noise.

There was no way to describe how he felt. Relief, joy, disgust, anger, and the uncertainty over what he had done left him numb to everything but the hole in in his waist.

Oboe appeared out of the blur of his vision. She had something in her hands.

"You did it." She was holding his glasses. The frame was twisted, but she bent it back in place and set the pair of lenses back on Theodore’s face. The arena came into focus, filled to bursting with creatures cheering and weeping. It was done. Whatever the cost had been, the crisis was over.

"Thank you," Oboe said.

Theodore tried to walk and almost collapsed from the pain. She caught him before he could fall, and carried him from the battlefield. His fingers found hers and they locked together.

The fairy healers fussed over him to speed the healing and dull the pain. Bedrest was prescribed, but the Titled nagged and pestered for the Fair Lady's Champion to attend every ceremony and be seen. It was something Theodore tolerated but was only truly present for if Oboe was beside him. It was strange to be called a champion, like his father, but it did not bother him the way he thought it would.

Perceval arrived with his retinue when word spread. He had the smile of an anxious gambler, someone who won big and knew he needed to cash out before luck took its turn. He hugged Oboe but hovered near Theodore as if he might shatter.

"I knew I could count on you guys," he said.

"What's the situation outside?" Theodore said.

Captain Redriver saluted. "We're in the process of vacating, per royal order.” Myra’s tone and posture were more proper than usual. “There’s been some disturbance among Red Cap supporters, but nothing major. We've offered to leave support behind to assist as needed, but I expect the spriggan will prefer to handle it on their own."

A gnome scuttled into the foyer, adorned in fanciful robes that dragged behind him.

"The Fair Lady is ready to receive you, your grace," he said. "Please follow me."

The group proceeded to the throne room, with Theodore lagging from his injury. The long ordeal had emptied him and left him with little besides a desire to sleep for months on end. He soldiered on knowing this would be the last of the ceremony. Oboe helped him along and together they arrived to find proceedings starting without them.

"...It does sadden me to say goodbye to my religious service." Fair Lady Feather stood at the foot of her massive throne, her brow adorned with three almond shaped leaves. Her white mantle was replaced with finer brocade silks. "But I must believe that this is where I will serve the greater good."

The room was packed with Titled of all species, and a few human nobles behind the prince.

"I know how you feel," Perceval said, growing thoughtful. "This wasn’t the future I saw for myself. But now that I understand the mess we’ve been left with, I see it’s too big to ignore. ...Ignoring problems is how things got this bad in the first place." He looked around the room and smiled when he noticed Theodore and Oboe. "I want to make things right again between our people. If we can work together to do that, I think we've a shot of making this a real alliance again."

"We are of one mind," Feather said. She looked at the ranks of the Titled on either side of her, some with faces more inscrutable than others. "But I fear that there will be opposition among both of our peoples. The road ahead is long and difficult. Let us start down it."

Over the course of the next few days, a new treaty was written. It did not contain any controversial decrees or new bylaws. It was more symbolic than anything: a reaffirming of the old vows with living witnesses and young new leaders. There was tense applause from the officials on both sides. A promise was made that would take a great deal of work to keep.


	35. Episode 7 Chapter 35

Theodore unpacked his uniform from the suitcase. A heavy khaki shirt and olive breeches, tailored to endure the outdoors. He fastened the buttons in front of the dressing mirror, fixed his tie, and stared at himself. It was a strange comfort to see himself in the outfit again. Like he was back in his own skin.

He saw Oboe sidle up beside him in the reflection. She pressed a gentle hand against his back, her face pensive.

“Are you sure you’re ready?”

Theodore pawed at his waist. The pain was there, but dull. Fairy magic worked fast when Fates were spent. “I’m sure,” he said. There would be aches, but aches he could deal with.

“Well.” Her smile was sly. “I don’t think anyone would blame you for taking a few more days for yourself.” She traced a finger down his back, sending a shiver up his spine.

“We’ve been gone long enough.” Theodore gathered up his long hair and pinned it behind his head. “There’s work to do.”

“You’re no fun!” Oboe flopped onto the bed and squirmed in mock upset. “Ugggh!!”

Theodore chuckled and checked himself in the mirror one last time. There was one piece missing. He picked the Ranger Deputy badge up off the dresser.

“Theo?”

He turned. Oboe was lying in a tangle of sheets. She was staring up at the ceiling, her face serious.

“I’m sorry I made you fight,” she said. “You didn’t want to.”

Theodore weighed the badge in his hand: A heavy eight-pointed star. Silver and iron, cold against his palm.

“I had to,” he said.

“I know.” She sat up. “That’s why it wasn’t fair. This isn’t the life you wanted. You didn’t want to be a knight. ...Like your dad.”

Theodore fixed the badge to his chest. “My father was just a man,” Theodore said. “A creature like you or me. He made mistakes, but he did what he thought was right. That’s what made him a knight.” He turned to look at her. “I fought because it was the best way to help everyone. If that’s what being a knight means, I suppose I don’t mind so much now.”

He snapped his suitcase shut and fastened the clasps. “Let’s go home.”

They left the Circle, and saw that Autumn had come to the Whirlwood. The trees were burned with golden yellows, vivid reds, and steadfast evergreens. A gentle wind breathed through the valley and sent leaves drifting around them. A warm sun shined through the thinning, tangled branches of the live oaks.

Oboe held his hand tight. There was something on her mind, so he asked her what it was.

“Do you think,” she said. “That they’d let me be a knight too? A good one I mean. Like you?”

Theodore gave it careful thought. “I think it would be hard.” He did not want to lie. “There’d be a lot of humans who wouldn’t treat you right.” He studied her. In her he saw the knight he wanted to be. “But I’m not sure that matters. I think you’d be good at it.”

Something in her eyes solidified. Calcified like magic into shining stone. She nodded at him, resolute.

The trail passed through a copse of trees and arrived at the cottage. There was a big crowd of creatures waiting for them. Pookas, and birds, and shadow children, and trolls, and gnomes, and furies, and imps, and peskies, and sylph, and skeletons, and foxes, and goblins, and terrors, and trolls, and werewolves, and one big bear in the middle. They were neighbors and friends, the people of the Whirlwood. Every one of them had been waiting since the start of the crisis with some problem or another that needed the attention of the Ranger Deputy. They cheered and shoved and bickered and shouted all in excitement to see him.

Theodore and Oboe shared a weary but happy look with one another. The Ranger Deputy rolled up his sleeves.


End file.
